Vagrant Story: The Tale of the Wanderer
by Aiddon Raziel Valentine
Summary: Two hundred years after the destruction of Lea Monde, a Riskbreaker named Jocelyn Oaks meets with the man known as Ashley Riot semi crossover with Final Fantasy Tactics
1. Tale 596

Tale -596: Unknown Beginning

It had been quite some time since everyone had parted from one another. Beowulf and his beloved Reis had gone to the south, seeking to be away from Ivalice and spend their days together as much as they could. Mustadio and Construct 8 went to the north to keep themselves as secluded as possible from those who would be shocked at the sentient machine's existence.

One after another they left, with Rapha and Marach being the last. Meliadoul had stayed in Ivalice for some time, but left for nearby Valendia with Alma and Rad as per Ramza's wishes. As such, the only ones who were still around in Ivalice were Master Orlandeau, Alicia, Lavian, and Agrias. Ramza came and went as he pleased, seeing the three ladies with their sword master once every fortnight or so. However, this night would be the last time any of them would be in Ivalice.

It was autumn, rain beating down in torrents and sheets. Hardly anybody would be on the roads or the moors with weather this bad, and yet a cloaked rider atop a golden Chocobo pressed on through the downpour.

Despite the road nearly being unrecognizable and nigh-on obliterated because of the heavy rain, the rider hardly had any worries, having been through these roads time and time again over the years. Northern Zeltennia was mostly grassland with few cities, which helped this rider from being seen. Then again, it wasn't exactly like she had any worries as even inquisitors from the church never sought out dead people.

Separate from the road was a one-story house, lights in its windows clearly showing that it was inhabited and its residents were awake. That house was the rider's destination. Veering off the road, the Chocobo obeyed and went onto the grass which had some spots of mud spreading from the soil. Taking no heed to them, the rider merely went on its way until they could rest the bird in the barn.

Dismounting, the rider let down the hood of the cloak, revealing the face of a woman with long, blond hair done in a braid. Her Chocobo shook, trying to rid itself of the droplets of rain on its feathers.

"Ah! Damn, I just got out of the rain; even though I'm soaked already I don't need more of it."

The woman frowned at her Chocobo which preened its feathers nonchalantly. Returning her hood to its previous position, she stepped outside once more to go into the house. Surprisingly she found the door already open with a woman several years her junior leaning against the doorjamb.

"Agrias, looks like you made it."

"It's been awhile, Lavian."

The two women greeted each other casually, Lavian taking Agrias' soaked cloak and putting it on a hanger. Despite having worn her cloak, Agrias was soaked to the bone, her hair being sopping wet and her clothes felt like they'd never be dry again. With rain this heavy, she wouldn't be surprised if she saw her sword start rusting in the morning.

"Well, it looks like our dear big sister had a lovely trip." another woman, perhaps somewhat younger than Lavian, sitting at a table joked as she saw the proud Agrias wet as could be.

"Tch, I swear I will never go outside when it rains ever again." Agrias took off her boots, freeing herself from their highly uncomfortable, clammy confines, only to reveal wrinkly feet which earned her giggles from her two friends.

Agrias undid her braid, letting her long, lustrous hair spill freely to her waist. She was about ready to start removing her thoroughly wet clothes when Lavian pointed to a figure sitting in a dark corner that had been unnoticed until then.

"Don't mind me, I'm merely the minority."

"? Ramza?" Agrias quickly put her shirt back down "I thought you were out in Lionel, so why are you here?"

Ramza gave a sullen expression that wasn't something that was typical of him "The same reason you are, Agrias."

The room became of a more serious atmosphere, each one of its inhabitants knowing exactly why they were here on this rainy night.

Four years had passed since Ivalice's battles in the Lion War, and the battles of Ramza and his friends. Though everyone was all for leaving Ivalice, the one person they were certain would leave the soonest didn't. Of all the people to stay, the legendary Orlandeau, whose face was known far and wide, stayed in a place where he was thought of as dead. When asked why he merely answered:

"Because I'm too bloody old to be traveling, that's why."

Orlandeau decided to live out by the border to Valendia, spending his days in quiet retirement. Not too long afterward, he asked Agrias to be his apprentice, which shocked the young woman. Initially she had refused, but the old man's persistence was too much. For the next two years the pair had been regularly sparring for weeks on end. Agrias would have preferred the Lucavi to this beast of an old man who still had the spirit of a man a third his age. "Too bloody old", hah! That old man was just a lying coot.

However, it was about sixth months ago that his age finally caught up with him. Deciding he couldn't teach Agrias anymore, the old sword master sent her off to think about things. She had been near Gallion when she received a letter from Lavian a month ago. The great Thunder God Cid, once a deity amongst swordsman, had taken ill and was bedridden. Agrias rushed with all speed to the little farm house and had finally arrived here.

"How has he been faring lately?" Agrias had changed into a fresh pair of leggings and a shirt.

Alicia, who was normally the one looking after the old man, had nothing short of a look of grief.

"It's…it's not well. He barely sees and he spends more time asleep than awake. I think you made it just in time."

Agrias looked to Ramza, who had mostly been silent this entire time. He leaned against the wall, his hand toying with the hilt of that curved, foreign blade he so preferred.

"Have you spoken to him much?" she asked, not too keen on seeing the young man silent.

"Whenever I get the chance, but I don't have any rights to be by his side at this moment when the fact of the matter is I refused his invitation."

Agrias had known for some time that her master had asked Ramza first, though she couldn't understand why he would have. Perhaps it was a tinge of self-loathing, but she felt Ramza would have been more suited to succeed Orlandeaou.

Before Agrias could prod further, Lavian had come from the other room and looked to Agrias.

"He's awake."

Agrias needed no further invitation. More than likely this would be the last night her master spent amongst the living. Giving Ramza a curt nod of her head, Agrias went to the back bedroom and stood in front of the door.

"M-master."

A few moments passed, nothing but the sound of rain pelting the house could be heard as time went by. An old, reedy voice then emanated from behind the door.

"Come in."

Agrias entered the room, her eyes not quite able to discern everything as the room was lit only by a single candle. However, she could see the figure of Orlandeau lying upon the bed. The old man turned his head, grinning.

"Well, sit down, darling." he gestured to the chair next to him.

Agrias did so, sitting proper. Her eyes now adjusted to the room, she couldn't help but be somewhat surprised by her master's appearance. Though his goatee and hair were the same, the rest of his body made sure no person could tell this was Thunder God Cid. A once proud, powerful frame was now no different than any other old man: withered, frail, and weak.

"C'mon now, don't give me that look. Be proud, like you always are"

Agrias jumped at his comment, though Orlandeaou was true. Not sitting straight and proud as she usually did, Agrias didn't seem like a Holy Knight but like a nervous granddaughter before her elder. Shaking her head, Agrias spoke.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner. Had I known this would happen, I never would have left."

"Ha ha ha, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. I kept telling those two dumb girls to leave for months and they still stuck around. Last thing I need is another young'n sticking around here needlessly." Agrias probably should have hit the old man, though with his current position she couldn't do much more than frown at him sourly.

He sighed, looking at Agrias in the dim light.

"Agrias…"

"What is it, master?"

"Come closer, I want to see your face."

She nodded and went to her knees, kneeling next to the bed. A weathered, wrinkled hand rose. Despite having seen countless battles and being covered in calluses, it caressed Agrias' face as gently as a grandfather. Orlandeau's eyes looked at her, despite his orbs having lost their sharpness, could make out the young woman in the dim light.

"Ahhhhh, my dear Agrias, you are so beautiful. Like a valkyrie who rode down from the heavens."

"You flatter me master. I am a knight, so beauty is of no concern to me."

"Nonsense, you will always be a woman before a knight. I'd never rest peacefully if I knew you were letting your youth and beauty waste away." needless to say, Agrias was somewhat red-faced at the thought of being womanly for a change.

"I'll… I don't know, maybe."

"Hehehe, that's my girl."

The old man turned his attention away from Agrias and towards a sheathed sword propped against the wall. It was rather plain, having no lavish adornments or gaudy metals upon hilt or sheath. Still, it was a blade that gave an aura of more magnificence than even the most splendid of swords.

"Agrias, fetch Excalibur."

She obeyed, leaving the old man for a brief moment as she retrieved the blade from its resting place. Sitting back upon the chair, Agrias offered Excalibur to Orlandeaou only to have him push it aside.

"No, it's yours."

"Wh-what!? But, I can't accept this. Excalibur is yours!"

"Tch," Orlandeau seemed almost insulted "that blade was merely in my possession; it's not like it's attached to me."

"But-"

Orlandeau turned his head to Agrias, stopping any further protests. He waved his hand, making Agrias kneel at his side once more. Lifting his ancient, wrinkled hand, Orlandeau placed his palm upon her forehead.

"In the name of the blade, I declare that thee hath become only what the greatest of warriors may claim. Through trial and hardship, ye have attained a new plain of power. Agrias Oaks, discard Holy Knight and Sword Saint, I name thee Blessed Valkyrie."

With the end of the small ceremony, Agrias took Orlandeau's hand with both of her own. Her eyes glassy, Agrias bowed her head before her master.

"I'll…I'll stay. This is the only thing that I can do."

"…Thank you, Agrias."

XXXX

Ramza didn't know how long it had been since Agrias went into Orlandeau's room. The rain didn't end though, coming down as hard as it hand when Agrias first went inside. Lavian had even replaced the candles in the lamps a few times as the hours went by.

"So Ramza, why exactly did you not stay in Valendia with Alma?" Alicia's query made him jump.

"Do you honestly expect me to just sit around all day while there's so much more out there?"

"Liar," Lavian said from the couch "I bet you can't stay in a place for more than three days."

Ramza, naturally, couldn't hide a secret worth a damn. Even went he went to Valendia to visit Alma, he only stayed for three days at the most. For some reason the thought of getting too comfortable terrified him and he'd often just keep wandering as much as possible.

"Lord, you are one dense boy, aren't you?" Alicia sighed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Apparently wandering around all the time during the war made you too used to having to leave places quickly. Now that no one's really looking for us anymore, you don't quite know what to do, right?"

"Gkgh."

Another thing Ramza couldn't do worth a damn was argue. It was true he was constantly on the move during the war and now that they were in times of peace, it seemed like he couldn't grow out of it. He would have liked to say he was doing the same thing he was years ago, but the fact of the matter he was really just being aimless.

The sound of a door opening got everyone's attention. Agrias walked in with her head hung low, clutching Excalibur tightly like an oversized doll. She didn't bother raising her head and responded in a cracked voice that was so unlike her.

"Master…has passed."

Alicia and Lavian looked to one another, nodding before exiting the room. Ramza wasn't used to this atmosphere, not really being able to do anything besides watch at Agrias held Excalibur.

"Ag-"

He didn't get her full name out. Before he got a chance, he felt her head buried in his shoulder as the sword she hung in her hand as her arms drooped limply at her sides. They stood there for a few minutes, neither saying nor doing anything else.

Ramza knew she was trying to hide it, but Agrias was shaking, her legs quaking like a small girl. This was no knight, not a valkyrie who could stand proudly without being fazed. No, this was just Agrias, a woman; a frail, ordinary woman who had lost someone she loved so dearly.

There was nothing he could say, so all that Ramza could do was stand there, letting her weep silent tears upon his shoulder.

XXXXX

Even two days after the storm, evidence of it still remained in the form of puddles and dew that clung to the grass like some sort of limpet. Sunny skies with white clouds had graced the country for the time being, though someone outside a farm house could care less.

Ramza was saddling up Boco, his packs loaded and his sword at his belt. Orlandeau had been buried the previous day, Agrias doing to duties of burying him herself. Ramza was surprised she hadn't shed a single tear during the whole thing, even when she placed her blade as her master's grave marker. He guessed what he had done the night before had been enough for her.

Ramza was readying to leave, seeing as Agrias, Lavian, and Alicia were all out at the moment. It was best he leave right now instead of letting them see him off.

"Hey."

Ramza jumped, seeing that Agrias was right next to the barn with her own Chocobo saddled as well. Excalibur was now properly sheathed and at her belt, something she still seemed a bit awkward about.

"How long have you…?"

"About a half-hour before you."

"I see." such a mediocre response earned him a glare. This of course was followed up by a query of Agrias'

"Why didn't you become Master's apprentice instead of me?"

That was definitely something Ramza had been thinking about a lot in the past few days. Regardless, it wasn't something he felt like answering.

"Ramza!"

"…I don't know, to this day I still don't know."

Agrias leaned against the barn door and crossed her arms.

"Master told me I should start acting more womanly," she was practically smirking "that's a tad ironic that he should do that and name me his official successor at the same time."

"You being womanly is a bit terrifying." Ramza said as he sat atop the saddle on Boco's back.

"Going home?"

"What gives you that idea?"

Agrias approached Ramza and looked up at him, her yellow eyes betraying nothing.

"Could I…come with you?"

Ramza raised his brow at her and oddly, Agrias' expression had not changed despite the reaction.

"Er, any reason?"

"I traveled for a few months, but quite frankly I didn't like it. Being alone doesn't suit me at all. And quite frankly, it doesn't fit you either."

Ramza ruffled his shaggy, blond hair, thinking about what Agrias had asked of him. He sighed.

"I…I don't mind being on the road alone. But then again, having company would be welcome."

To that, he got one of Agrias' truly rare grins which caused him to do his own nervous one. The woman went atop her own chocobo, heading for the road with Ramza.

"So, what about Alicia and Lavian?"

"I told them to catch up to us in Valnain."

"What gives you the impression that's where we're headed?"

"Ramza, you need to go home.


	2. Tale 1

_A report was recently received from the Valendia Knights of Peace. Agent Jocelyn Oaks, one of their chief Riskbreakers, has gone missing in Ivalice. He was last seen in the region of Mullonde alongside Agent Victoria Emer of the Information Analysis Unit. Both are prime suspects in the recent murder of Duke Bardorba. Extreme caution and deadly force are advised in the apprehension of both suspects who are currently still at large._

_The incident occurred last month during the occupation of the Duke's manor. Ashley Riot, leader of the cult Müllenkamp, took hostages and demanded the release of his captive allies and the resignation of Cardinal Argath. He made off with the Duke's beloved daughter Sidney as well._

_What exactly was the intent of Riot? And what happened in that month where he and his associate Nigel were chased across Ivalice by Agent Oaks? Only the agent in question and Miss Emer can answer that. They must be found!_

_Also, there is a peculiar rumor that witnesses saw a…dragon as the manor burned._

XXXXX

Tale 1: The Riskbreaker and the Prophet

It was dark within the room, the only light being candles set upon the long, oak table that stood in the chambers middle. At its front were three officers of the Valendia Knight of Peace, one of them being a woman of middle age while the other two were men of late-thirties and mid-fifties respectively. At the foot was a man dressed in dark earthen hues with a duster jacket on his person. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but his hair which plummeted to the small of his back was as black as the wings of a crow. What could clearly be seen though were his eyes, gold like a hawk's.

The woman looked to the man, adjusting a pair of round-lensed reading glasses on her nose.

"…I'm sure you are aware of the burglary that happened this afternoon."

"Yes, madam; a historic sword from the east was taken from the Valnain History Museum. It was a blade my great-grandfather donated because of its exquisite craftsmanship."

"Yes, well it seems as though the culprit also has to do with the occupation of Duke Bardorba's manor." the older man spoke up "This happens to be his daughter's birthday and the cult has taken his entire family hostage as well as his servants."

"Their demands?"

"The release of their imprisoned allies from the Graylands Penitentiary as well as the resignation of Cardinal Argath."

"Quite the tall order, I suppose the course of action is to not give in?"

"Indeed," the youngest of the three officers rested his chin upon his hands "though Müllenkamp's activities are within the limits of religious freedom, this cannot stand. They also made an attempt at our Lord's life this past yuletide and the dear Prince Henry has still not recovered from his injuries."

The black-haired man stroked his chin thoughtfully, the faintest glimmer of curiosity etched on his face.

"Though this is grave, I thought cults were the concern of the Templars. Why exactly are we, the Riskbreakers, involved?"

A flash of lightning burst from outside, making clear the silhouettes of figures next to the window.

"The Duke himself gives coin to the accursed cult." One of the figures spoke in a deep, rumbling tone "Though his family did contribute considerable efforts to stopping the civil war ages ago, he still fancies himself a politician despite his retirement."

"The Cardinal sending his Templars is also something of interest." The woman spoke up "Though this is a matter of the church as well as state, he first must have our approval."

"You'll go to the Duke's manor at the edge of town." The old man rubbed his temples "An agent of ours will fill you in."

"And that would be…?"

"Agent Victoria Emer."

XXXXX

It was nearing 2:00 past midnight at the Duke's manor. Outside its walls, about a hundred feet, was a dark-haired woman behind a tree. Though she wore a garb befitting of a woman, its design would instantly tell the well-informed was her occupation was. She gazed at the manor, taking heed of the six men patrolling its grounds beyond the gate. Though seemingly ragged, all of them were armed with blades while a few even had muskets.

"Well, this looks like a bloody good time."

The woman turned, seeing a man step forward from the darkness of the trees. His stature and build were of lithe dimensions certainly worthy of praise, though the most eye-catching feature he had was the broadsword sheathed at his belt. Men these days usually carried rapiers and foils or main gauche, though it seemed this figure hadn't caught up with the times.

"Agent Jocelyn Oaks I presume. I'm to be your partner; Victoria Emer is the name, but call me Vic."

"Oddly masculine for a young one."

It was quite obvious Vic was younger than Jocelyn by a few years. Though pretty, her face hadn't quite yet become sharp enough to be considered a woman with her plum eyes merely compounding her young-faced appearance. Passing by her unceremoniously, Jocelyn looked to the manor.

"Just how many are there?"

"Scouts report about fifteen, though we can't account for any in the building itself. Supposedly Ashley is inside though we've yet to spot him. There should be around twenty hostages inside."

Just then a sudden light sprang from the upper chambers of the manor. Crimson glows from the window betrayed the nature of the light.

"What in…have the Templars gone mad?!" Vic had not been expecting this

"Well, this should be the perfect distraction." Jocelyn began walking towards the manor unfazed.

"Wait! Dealing with both the Templars and the cult is too dangerous. We should wait for reinforcements!"

"Tch, I _am _the reinforcements."

XXXXX

Within the manor, though not close to the flames that threatened to consume it, waltzed a tall, dashing figure of a man. His white-blond hair was cut short with an oddly feathery quality to it and his eyes gleamed with an ice-blue shine. His attire was the type one would associate with a nobleman, yet his arms were notably covered in light armor and the sigil upon them obviously told his rank: on the Templars or Crimson Blades as they were colloquially known.

He strolled through the manor almost casually despite the sounds of battle between the knights at the cultists raging. He merely kept walking, that is, until one of his enemies leapt from an interesting corridor and took a swing at him.

The white-haired man dodged, though by the slightest of margins; He hardly even looked at the blade his opponent wielded. The cultist brandished it at him, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"Damn preachers, ye spout sermons yet ye don't moind slicing some 'eads off."

The man was given no response, receiving instead the white-haired man drawing the rapier from his side. The cultist leapt, swinging his sword with all his might while the white-haired man merely stepped forward with a thrust of his thin blade.

FSST!

The cultist missed, evaded by a thin margin while his opponent had punctured his jugular vein. Dark blood shot like a fountain, draining like wine from a bung. Turning around while attempting to stop the flow of blood, the cultist was met by a swift swipe at his belly and a swift thrust right through his heart. The strikes had been too swift for most eyes to follow.

"Sir Macbeth!"

The white-haired man responded to the cry, his head turning to a knight as he sheathed his blade.

"Was this one your target?" Macbeth's voice was unusually young, almost boyish.

"Yes, milord, it won't happen again."

"Has Riot been found?"

"No."

"Never mind; just put out the fires with one group while another exterminates the cultists."

"Yessir!"

Saluting swiftly, the knight went with all speed down the hall while Macbeth ruffled his snowy hair.

"Damn Riot, just where in the name of hell is he?"

XXXXX

Outside the actual building, Jocelyn Oaks hid behind a carriage left from the visitors. Moving not an inch, he looked at a tall man with his a bandanna covering his hair and armed with a sword and flintlock pistol at his belt. A scar on his cheek as well as an uncharacteristically trimmed goatee definitely confirmed this man was Nigel Ezekiel.

"Damn, we need to get out of here." His tone was clearly cursing the Templars "Just set aflame what you can while I get Ashley."

"Aye!"

Jocelyn kept his place, glancing ever-so-slightly at Nigel slipping through the front doors of the manor. The two cultists were splashing jars of oil over the grounds.

"Hopefully those damnedable Blades aren't too far along yet."

"Joost finish it 'fore our brothers are beaten."

Jocelyn kept his vigil, looking for a gap to slip into the manor. He was about to slide to the other side of the carriage when he saw a most shocking site: a girl with long, straight hair and dressed in a dress looking at him. However, she was completely black and white. Even Jocelyn, seasoned as he was, jumped at the odd display of the girl. To his great lack of luck, he made his steps be heard which only alerted the nearby cultists.

"Who's there?!"

Jocelyn glanced, though he saw no girl. He drew the broadsword from his belt.

"Well, no choice then."

His presence known, Jocelyn strolled out to meet the two cultists who themselves had short swords in their hands. Luckily they held no pistols, which made Jocelyn breathe a sigh of relief internally.

Though it was two against one, the scuffle lasted two blows, one for each of the cultists. They came at him, charging like mad dogs. Jocelyn, on the other hand, was more like a bull and his sword was his horns. Two blows came, the first being a thrust that was so strong it sent the victim flying while the other was a swing that cleaved the man from his right shoulder right down to his left hip.

The lone Riskbreaker gave no heed to his victims, eliminating all the blood on his sword with a swift swipe and sheathing it. With no more obstacles, he entered the manor.

Jocelyn immediately went into a cautious stature, preparing for any opponents. Met with no sort of noise besides the distant crackling of flames amidst swords battling, he assumed that Müllenkamp was far too busy with fighting the Templars. Relaxing minutely, Jocelyn made a beeline for the main chambers of the manor.

XXXXX

Nigel bit his thumb nervously as he made for the small chapel the manor held. This had all been a complete disaster. More than likely few, if any, of their members would live through this operation and now they truly had a keg of gunpowder in their hands. Just what in the hell had Ashley done this for?

Nigel pushed open the chapel's heavy wooden doors, seeing a tall, lean man in a long, black coat. His hair was a strange honey hue, and strange spike styles into the shape of lightning bolts jutted from his short hair.

"Ashley!"

The man turned, revealing that he wore no shirt under his coat which left his chest completely bare.

"What, Ezekiel?" his tone was almost bored.

"The Blades are here, we have to leave 'fore our brothers can no longer hold them!"

Oddly, Ashley seemed to clear the twenty feet separating him and Nigel in a split-second. Needless to say, Nigel jumped slightly.

"You would do so without even getting what we came for?"

"F-forgive me, but if we dawdle any longer we'll have chance of escape! We already have that blade from this morning and we can't afford to waste any more time."

Ashley looked to the curved sword resting on a pew, its white sheath like pearl in the chapel. He sighed, a tad annoyed.

"Fine, fetch the girl and come with me."

With a curt nod, Nigel left from where he came. He was, unfortunately unaware of the presence of Jocelyn Oaks who was hiding behind one of the pillars out in the corridor.

Ashley turned on his heel toward the front of the chapel. His hand reached for a scimitar resting on the altar. Just a moment before his hand could reach the hilt, he was stopped by "Freeze!"

Ashley did so, looking over his shoulder at Jocelyn who was armed with a pistol.

"I've a clear shot at your heart. Now turn 'round, slowly."

Ashley obeyed once again, facing the man who had his sights on him. Jocelyn approached slowly with his aim as steady as ever.

"Oh, you're no knight. One of the VKP's dogs then?" his only response was Jocelyn throwing a length of rope.

"Bind your legs."

"Well, this is an interesting case of déjà vu."

Instead of doing as Jocelyn had asked, Ashley swiftly took hold of the blade on the altar and made a dash for the Riskbreaker. What met him was the lead slug that shot from Jocelyn's pistol and landed straight in his chest. The force was so powerful that Ashley actually flew a foot before landing on the stone floor on his back.

Jocelyn put away his pistol and went to check the cult leader. Though Jocelyn knew his aim was true, it didn't help to check. He brought his two fingers to Ashley's throat and felt no pulse.

"Ashley!"

Jocelyn turned, seeing Nigel carrying a small girl in his arms. Her red hair and formal clothes obviously told who she was. Jocelyn reached for his blade and prepared to rush Ashley's subordinate, only to suddenly be struck down with a blow to the back.

"Pay attention, Riskbreaker."

No, that couldn't be. Despite his confusion, Jocelyn gazed from his downed position at an impossibly alive Ashley, the metal slug still embedded in his chest. Ashley paid Jocelyn no heed and looked to Nigel.

"Ezekiel, make for Ivalice. This is where we must flee."

Nigel nodded and fled swiftly. Jocelyn was going to go after him, except he saw the blade of Ashley coming down for him. Jocelyn twisted to one side, sparks flying as Ashley's blade hit stone, and swiftly got up. Ashley's attack didn't stop though and Jocelyn was met with a slash of Ashley who had leapt with great speed. The Riskbreaker dodged, though a split across his shirt showed how narrow the margin was. A sufficient distance between them, Jocelyn drew his sword.

"What in hell are you? You were dead." his brow raised in an almost mocking curiosity.

"What have you no respect for fairy tales?"

Ashley looked at his wound for the first time. Even if he came back from the dead, it wasn't as though he could ignore a sizable metal ball lodged in his chest. He frowned and dug his fingers into the hole, pulling out the metal slug with a strained grunt. He winced, blood coming from his mouth.

"Tch, crossbow bolts are easier to pull out." he almost grinned "I'd stay and chat but our time is up."

Jocelyn would not have that. Holding his sword with two hands, he made a dash for Ashley who was retrieving the sword at the pew. Before Jocelyn could close the distance between them any further, the ceiling suddenly caved in and a huge, scaly beast fell from above.

"Have at him, Fafnir."

Jocelyn couldn't believe his eyes. Standing between him and his target was a huge, red-scaled lizard. However, the leathery wings upon its back and its unusual size could only make him think of the beings of legends and myths.

"A wyrm?"

"Have fun, Riskbreaker."

If not for the dragon between them, Jocelyn would have stopped Ashley from leaping from the window onto the ground below. Jocelyn cursed under his breath and readied his blade as the lithe, scaly beast before him bared its fangs and claws.

Fafnir rushed, covering the distance between him and Jocelyn in the blink of an eye. Jocelyn, a skilled Riskbreaker, barely dodged the deadly talons the beast lunged with. Rolling to his side, Jocelyn recovered quickly and made for the dragon with his sword in both hands. He didn't account for the whip-like tail that lashed out and would have struck him in the head, had it not been for the Riskbreaker's quick reflexes.

The powerful appendage sent Jocelyn flying across the chapel and sent pews flying everywhere like a storm. Jocelyn came to a halt as he hit the northern wall, though none too gently. He stood, seeing the beast readying another attack. This thing's hide was tough as iron and its power was worthy of praise. Jocelyn stood, though he shook a bit from the dragon sending him over fifteen feet.

"I sure hope the fairy tales are true."

The dragon leapt at Jocelyn from where is crawled, an impressive feat considering the distance between them. Seemingly on reflex, Jocelyn thrust his sword right into the beast's chest where its heart would be. Apparently the old myths and fables of old were true as the wyrm gave a shrill cry before falling limp. With an odd, eldritch burst, the dragon practically exploded into black dust.

Despite being beaten and weary, Jocelyn still stood. His mind right now was quite confused with the load of fantastical events that occurred quite literally one after the other. His main concern was Ashley's words though.

"Ivalice."


	3. Tale 2

Tale 2: To Ivalice we go, Marching to our Doom

Tale 2: To Ivalice we go, Marching to…

Vic was not in the greatest of positions right now. Not only had the operation last night been a complete mess, the main target had managed to run off with his accomplice and, heaven forbid, the daughter of the Duke. What compounded matters was that Agent Oaks had mentioned a dragon and even giving Riot a fatal wound with a pistol, only to miraculously rise. Vic, however, wouldn't dare mention that; the last thing the VKP needed was to think that one of their agents had lost his sanity. Their superior merely told Oaks and Vic to go home and rest on it seeing as the manor was in disarray and the ensuing confusion to follow would see to it that no one would have a full night's sleep for weeks.

The following day was as gloomy as the night before, the streets full of puddles and gossip. Vic hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep as it seemed just as she had laid down her head she had a messenger banging on her door. She was quickly told to get in the accompanying carriage and retrieve Agent Oaks from his home and bring him to headquarters, despite being in a daze that could only be described as being drunk with sleep deprivation.

Vic yawned, wondering how she was keeping herself awake despite having had half a night's sleep at best and not even a cup of tea to get up properly. The lazy drizzle only helped to make her sleepy, making it appear that the entire world wanted to sleep deeply. Vic could feel her eyelids drooping and was tempted to take a nap in the warm, cozy carriage.

As fate would have it though, the carriage came to a halt, practically throwing Vic's form forward and forcing her to keep awake. She groaned in a rather disgruntled manner, not happy with the day to come. She stepped out of the carriage into the drizzle only to be perplexed by the long driveway that the carriage had rode through to get to the front steps of a sizable manor.

"Excuse me," she called to the driver "are we at the right place?"

"'Course we are marm, this be the Oaks Estate."

"…You're joking, right?"

"No, marm, I'd recognoize this place even if my lamps were plucked from my skull."

Vic had a hard time with this. She had expected Agent Oaks to be some middle-class public servant, not a privileged noble. Though baffled, Vic went to the front door and banged the adorned knocker. For a moment she thought the place was empty, though the heavy door opening assured her that at least SOMEONE was around.

"May I help you?" A middle-aged maid swung the door open.

"Yes, I'm Agent Emer with the VKP, I've come to retrieve Agent Oaks."

"Master Jocelyn isn't feeling well; may you come later?"

"Unfortunately I can't do that, so if you're not willing to show me to Agent Oaks I'll have to force my way in."

The maid merely sighed, looking over her shoulder apprehensively. She stepped to the side and ushered Vic in. Vic looked around the entrance hall, speechless at the solemn beauty of it. The maid guided her up the stairs, more than likely taking her to Agent Oaks. The whole time neither spoke a world, mostly because Vic was too busy looking at the ornate banisters, the beautiful paintings, and the finely crafted doors. The maid came to a halt in front of a large door, knocking gently on the hard wood.

"Master Jocelyn, a Ms. Emer has come to see you."

At first there was silence, and then more silence. Vic, her patience swiftly draining, took hold of the handle and pushed the door open. There, sprawled on the sofa and shirtless, was Agent Oaks…and in his hand was a long, decorated pipe.

"Wait a minute…" Vic immediately picked up a strange odor. Walking over to Agent Oaks, she wrenched the pipe from his hand and gave it a strong waft. "Opium…?"

Her temper having run out, she didn't hesitate to slap Oaks' prone form and send him onto the floor. The maid immediately hurried over and tried to keep Vic from dealing another strike, though the muffled grunts of Oaks stopped either of them.

"Bluh…I only remember Arthur getting my attention like that."

"I'm sorry, Master Jocelyn, I'll send her away right now!"

"Calm down Agatha, it's not like I'm not used to getting hit; slapping me is just about the only way to get me up."

"What is this!?" Vic made her presence known, shoving the pipe into Jocelyn's face forcefully.

"It's opium, what else could it be?"

"This-this-BLAAAAH! What kind of Riskbreaker does this!?"

"The normal kind." Jocelyn plucked the pipe out of Vic's hands and shooed Margaret out of the room. He deposited the pipe into a nearby desk and began washing his face at a water basin.

Vic was not in a good mood and finding out that Agent Oaks was taking narcotics was aggravating at best. She sat on the large bed, eyeing Oaks.

"So, I take it you didn't enough sleep either." Oaks said, wiping his face with a cloth.

"Yes in fact and just so you know I'm GOING to report you when this is settled. Now I know why you were seeing dragons and the walking dead last night."

"I don't indulge myself on the job; fantasy and reality is the worst kind of mix."

"Oh? So somehow you're a RESPONSIBLE drug user?"

Oaks didn't pay Vic's inquiries any more heed. He wasn't in a particularly good mood after last night and being brought out of his haze so abruptly only gave him a headache. He slid into his duster and looked over his shoulder at Vic who was still fuming.

"Well then, I guess we should go see the Chief."

XXXXX

The drive to HQ was decidedly uneventful. After Vic having walked in on Jocelyn neither Agent talked to the other. Despite Vic giving off an intense aura, Jocelyn just looked out the window nonchalantly. After half an hour of silence, the two came to the steps of the VKP headquarters. Even when going up the steps neither one spoke. It wasn't until someone called down from the staircase in the main hall that both agents were taken out of silence.

"You're late." Jocelyn recognized the man from the briefing last night; his slicked-back hair and grey eyes giving him an air of superiority.

"My apologies, Chief Williams; we were both without much sleep."

"You're used to it Oaks and you had best be GETTING used to it in the coming days."

The two agents followed their superior to his office, Vic shutting the door behind her as the Chief sat at his desk and opened a bottle of rather strong-smelling cinnamon liqueur. The Chief poured it into a glass and took a sip, savoring the flavor before turning his attention towards Jocelyn and Vic.

"Oaks, what in the name of Heaven happened last night?" the Chief's speech was calm, but Vic and Jocelyn could only guess at his irritation "You had the perfect chance to get Ashley and you let him slip right through your fingers. You even shot your pistol and didn't turn up a corpse."

"Would you believe me if I said I shot him only to have him rise again?"

"…_What_? Oaks, you had best not be joking, because you never joke."

"I'm not; I shot Riot in the heart with my gun, but he stood up and removed the slug from his chest. If I hadn't been there myself I wouldn't have believed it."

Williams thoughtfully rubbed his temple while Vic looked nervously. Jocelyn, on the other hand, had kept a straight face the entire time. Williams sighed deeply and finished off his glass and poured himself some more of the strong-smelling liqueur.

"I suppose that would explain the damage to the chapel, but let's put that off for now." Williams seemed to have resigned himself to Jocelyn's story "What's important now is that Riot has made of with the Duke's daughter and we don't have any clue of where he is."

"You didn't find any traces the entire night?" Vic finally quipped in, the tense atmosphere having subsided somewhat.

"Find? Emer, the only reason we even know Ashley Riot exists is because of all this racket he causes. If it weren't for that we'd think he was some sort of urban myth."

"Well…" Jocelyn stroked his chin "I do _possibly _have a place he could have gone to."

"Oh?"

"When Riot ran, he called to Ezekiel. He said to meet in Ivalice."

Williams' brow raised, not sure whether or not to believe Jocelyn.

"I suppose Ivalice would be a proper place to flee; the entire country has been in disarray for longer than any of us wish to remember. Still though, what makes you think he wasn't lying?"

"If I didn't know any better I'd say Riot was actually talking to _me_."

Williams slumped back in his chair, closing his eyes meditatively. He knew Oaks was a reliable agent, but taking chances was something they couldn't afford at the moment.

"Alright, since it's our only lead, I guess we should ask the border patrol and the dock workers." Williams leaned forward, elbows on his desk "However, keep in mind that you're the one responsible for this, Oaks."

"I'm well aware of that, sir."

"Good, now get downstairs and help with the hurricane down there."

"Actually, sir," Vic gave a glance to Jocelyn "there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Alright then, I suppose Oaks can fill you in later."

Jocelyn shrugged and went out the door without as much as a nod. Williams relaxed, sipping from his glass once more.

"Sir, are you sure you can trust Oaks?"

"Why not? He's one of the best Riskbreakers around; I've yet to see him screw up a mission."

"With all due respect sir, when the carriage came to get him earlier I found him passed out-."

"Smoking opium, right?"

Vic's eyes widened at Williams whose expression was somewhere between bored and slightly annoyed.

"You…knew?"

"Emer, I'm a VKP administrator, how can you _not _expect me to know what my men do?"

"A habit such as that could jeopardize a mission! How can you let him get away with this?!"

Williams stood and walked over to a bookshelf, sliding his finger across the variety of folders until he found what he was looking for. He pulled a rather thick volume out and flipped it open.

"Emer, are you aware of the Dangerous Criminal Task Force's epithet?"

"You mean the Riskbreakers?"

"No, the nickname of the division itself." Williams looked over his shoulder at Vic who was raising her eyebrow in confusion. "It's called the Graveyard. Another nickname for Riskbreakers is Corpses."

"I know the division had a high mortality rate, but I didn't know it was that infamous."

"It is true that we have a high death rate, but a large portion of it is outside of missions." Williams walked over to Vic, handing her the thick folder he had been sifting through. "Emer, the Riskbreakers are not idealists; they are the most fatalistic people you will ever meet. Trust me when I say Oaks is the nice one of the group."

Vic looked at the folder she had been handed; without a doubt it was Oaks' own history. Williams sat in his chair again and finished off his glass.

"Chief," Vic clutched the folder "why exactly is a man like Oaks in the Riskbreakers?"

"He has his reasons, though they're mostly just like every member's. Read that file and you might see that a little drug use is probably for the best."

"I didn't exactly think that being in the VKP would mean I'd have to let vices slide."

"Emer, that's ALL what the law is."

XXXXX

The rest of the day was spent as an inevitable storm of paper and protocol. There was no information about Riot even well into the night and it seemed even the docks didn't really produce any results. It wasn't until almost the middle of the night that Vic and Jocelyn were able to be relieved of duty. The night sky was rather clear; the stars were as bright as they could ever hope to be and there was nary a cloud.

"Not a trace of Ashley anywhere." Jocelyn's voice made Vic jump. He hadn't spoken the entire day after leaving the office so it was a bit of a surprise.

"I guess your Ivalice theory didn't prove true."

"Perhaps, but it's not at though it added that much to the mayhem."

"You'd leave that poor girl's fate up to chance?"

Jocelyn walked past Vic, running his fingers through his raven-black hair.

"Emer, what do you expect me to say? We're in an age of cynicism. Pretty words are not praised, they're scorned."

"Having apathetic people such as you doesn't help."

Jocelyn was about to respond to Vic when the sound of hooves beating on the street made both agents turn their heads. A horse was moving in haste down the stone road and Jocelyn practically had to shove Vic to keep her from being trampled. The horse was made to stop by its rider, a highwayman in an oilskin coat.

"Careful about trampling people." Jocelyn cocked an eyebrow at the highwayman.

"Sorry, sir, but there's been a major incident at the docks."

Jocelyn escorted the man into the building with Vic alongside him. Apparently a cargo ship had left for Warjilis in Ivalice that morning. Several dock workers had found the ship's captain in a warehouse, though many found it extremely odd since the captain certainly left on the ship that morning. When questioned, they said that there was a man wearing a hooded overcoat carrying a girl with red hair.

The highwayman was now in Williams' office, Jocelyn at the door and Williams looking at his office's window to the sky. He looked at Jocelyn off the glass.

"So, I suppose Riot hadn't lied to you."

"Apparently not, though I'm still wondering how he managed to make himself look like a grizzled seaman."

"We'll worry about that later; right now we know he's headed to Warjilis. If he manages to get out of that city, good luck finding him in Ivalice."

"So I guess I'm to head out immediately."

"Sir," Vic interrupted "I know Riot is a highly wanted criminal, but does the VKP have the right to go into a country like that?"

"Ivalice is one of our allies so if there aren't any huge scenes in populated areas there shouldn't be a problem. Besides, Riot is wanted there anyway."

"Still, sending an agent of the VKP to a country as unstable as Ivalice could cause problems. My worry is about restriction."

"Oaks," Jocelyn's darted over to Williams "you're to go to the docks immediately and get to Ivalice. Agent Emer is to be your support." Williams was quickly writing a document with a freshly inked quill.

"Aye, sir."

Within the next few moments, Jocelyn had set of with Vic close behind and into a police carriage. It was no sooner that they had shut the door then the horses were running to the docks. Jocelyn crossed his legs in the dark carriage and gazed out the narrow window.

"Ivalice, eh?"


	4. Tale 3

Tale 3: For the Hunter is not always the Clever One

It took about three days to get to Warjilis by boat. Even going with the wind didn't help in the least. When Jocelyn and Vic arrived, the ship Riot had apparently taken was already relieved of cargo and its men confused at the fact that their captain had been found back in Valnain's docks. Furthermore, they hadn't seen hide or hair of the other captain or Ezekiel and the girl. Ashley Riot was indeed like the wind.

Vic was currently in a nearby inn, sifting through the folder she had been given back at headquarters. Jocelyn had gone to the embassy hoping to get some information as doing so with civilians had proven less than stellar. Vic sighed, not sure why in blazes they had chased a man all the way to a place like Ivalice. This, surely, was madness.

"Get your head out of the clouds."

Vic jumped at Jocelyn's voice coming from the door. As usual, his sword was at his side and his expression was dull. His black hair practically sucked all the light from the surroundings.

"It looks like Ashley is around, and we have trouble."

"What's the trouble?"

"There are several ships bearing the banner of Saint Iocus that arrived in port hours before we came. It's said a white-haired man with freakishly pale skin was leading them."

"The Blades, worst of all Othello Macbeth's lot."

"Yes, so in the worst case scenario I may have to cross swords with them." Jocelyn was checking his pistol and slugs "However, a man fitting Ashley's description was seen at the Golgolloda Gallows. Hopefully I can get there before they can."

"Golgolloda…" Vic scratched her chin.

Jocelyn holstered his pistol and leaned against the doorjamb. His eyes gave an inquiring look to Vic.

"Tell me what you know of this…._Ashley_."

Vic, perhaps wanting to indulge herself as much as Jocelyn, practically flooded him with information.

"Ashley Riot is…well, a bit of a mystery. His age, ethnic background, or whether Ashley Riot is his real name is all unknown. He is a sort of prophet of the apocalypse, though not quite as preachy or pretentious."

"Why exactly would a prophet do something as severe as attacking the ducal manor and kidnapping Bardorba's daughter?"

"While the church may think differently, the VKP believes Riot and Bardorba are allies. Maybe they've had a falling out."

Vic stood and walked over to her room's window, gazing at the dull blue sky. Jocelyn's eyes followed her.

"Or maybe it's another one of the church's self-proclaimed "witch-hunts"." Jocelyn never was one for religion.

"Perhaps, but Riot's prophecies are unnaturally accurate. Furthermore, it's rumored he can tell the past of anyone. His charisma is such that his followers offer their entire beings to him."

"I suppose it is, considering how highly you speak of him." Jocelyn began walking down the hall.

"Agent Oaks!" followed after him "There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Jocelyn turned on his heel towards Vic. His eyes instantly went to the folder she had in her hand.

"What is that?"

"Chief Williams gave it to me. Honestly I was kicking myself when I remembered where I heard the name Oaks. It was a such big thing and-"

Vic was silenced at Jocelyn coming face to face with her and narrowing his eyes in a vicious, enraged manner

"Don't _EVER_ mention that in my presence."

Jocelyn headed off down the stairs, not giving Vic as much as a farewell. Vic sighed at her stupidity. Of course he wasn't going to want to talk or hear about what had happened. It was no surprise at all that he was smoking narcotics and employed in a section of the VKP that read "early graves guaranteed". Hopefully this wouldn't make a huge roadblock down the future considering that she had no idea when this assignment was going to be over.

Just as Vic was entering her room she heard the bed rustling. Sitting right there was Ashley Riot, an unknown book in his hands that his eyes darted over. His reaction to Vic's arrival was almost delayed, waiting just a second before his brown orbs slowly eased into the corners of his sight. He didn't even change his expression or say his word, for Vic knew what his presence meant.

XXXXX

Near the edge of town, practically touching the grasslands was a pristine chapel. Strange for a church in Ivalice, it had no damage or wear of time on it. Ivalice was often called "the heretics' land" for its lack of any single religion due to the Church of Saint Ajora being revealed as a corrupt, ruthless sect. Indeed, such was the ire at the revelation that the common people and many nobles went as far as defacing and destroying many churches and temples, once beautiful establishments that had now been reduced to decrepit, vacant ruins.

This church in particular was of the Church of Saint Iocus, one of the various kinds of faiths that had equal right in the current, godless age. Sitting on a bench in the chapel's empty hall was Macbeth. His white hair stained a dull red from the light shining through the stained glass window next to him. Despite his stoic demeanor, he was far from relaxed. After failing to capture Riot or his lieutenant Ezekiel, Macbeth assembled all the manpower he could muster and made way for Ivalice. The Cardinal would not allow any more mistakes of that magnitude.

"Othello."

To Macbeth's right was a rather graceful woman with eyes of emerald and waist-length hair like that of the noon sun. While her elegant figure would make her a fitting lady of the court, her outfit and the schiavona at her belt told otherwise.

"Something the matter, Maria?"

"You should be careful of the sun; you burn far quicker than most."

"I've worse things to worry over than my skin getting a little redder. We've brought scores of men and yet that damned Riot eludes us somehow."

Maria sat next to Macbeth, crossing he legs and stroking his snowy hair.

"David's men went out several hours ago so they should turn something up."

As though to accentuate Maria's statement, she and Macbeth heard yelling just outside the chapel's doors. After a short while the doors burst open, a priest walking through. Beneath his dirty blond hair Macbeth could see the veins about ready to burst.

"Speak of the devil."

"Devil indeed, for he must be at work to make these dithering berks this incompetent."

"So Ashley still hasn't been found?"

"No, and apparently those two VKP dogs from back at the manor are here. We've also heard nothing from the squad we sent to the Gallows."

"Gallows?" Macbeth wasn't quite up to speed with what some of the locals were talking about.

"A man resembling Ashley was said to be around the ruins of the Golgolloda Gallows. I sent a squad out there but I haven't heard a word from them since."

"If Ashley is indeed there we'd best prepare for ill news."

XXXXX

Jocelyn had saddled a horse and made his way toward the Gallows immediately after meeting with Vic. Needless to say, his mood was foul though his face gave no hints of it. That damned Chief, just what did he think bringing things like that up was going to accomplish? This mission was already stressful enough and now he had extremely bad memories haunting him once again.

The peace of the countryside gave Jocelyn's mind no peace either. Indeed, he preferred being in a drugged stupor or having roaring noise. When things were loud or muddled he didn't have any chance to let his mind wander unlike now where he could do nothing else.

As fate would have it, his horse gave a sudden whinny and reared up on its hind legs. Jocelyn, not wanting to be thrown off just yet, hung on with all he could. Eventually the horse calmed down, making Jocelyn wonder just what had caused it.

Apparently the Riskbreaker's destination hadn't been as far as he'd thought. In the distance he could see the crumbling ruins of what had once been a fort. Stepping off his horse, Jocelyn began making his way toward the Gallows. It was then that he noticed other horses nearby, each of them wearing the banner of Saint Iocus. Raising his brow, Jocelyn proceeded with caution as his hand did not stray far from his sword.

Foreboding came over Jocelyn rather quickly, something that would slow the advance and bravery of most men. The atmosphere of the area didn't feel right, like a silent voice was screaming "get out". Jocelyn had felt this many times before, but not quite of this intensity. Indeed, this was like thick, encompassing pitch

Nevertheless, Jocelyn's duty forbade any sort of hesitation and went on despite himself. Quite literally a stone's throw from the fort an all-too familiar smell hit Jocelyn's nose. At what had once been the fort's gate were several bodies, all of them clearly of the Crimson Blades. Jocelyn stepped further and examined the corpses.

Both had swords through their hearts, not each other's but their own. What exactly could have caused these men to pierce their chests with their own weapons? Jocelyn's curiosity would have to wait as there was no doubt if there were bodies belonging to the Blades then Ashley would be close by.

Jocelyn drew his sword and gun and inched into the relic of a fort. Quite frankly he was amazed that the Gallows themselves were still standing, even if the wooden execution stand was rotten and moss-ridden. Jocelyn saw nothing amidst the long grass and it was only when he turned on his heel that he saw a large form standing on the ramparts.

Yes, Ashley had definitely been here as the form was fantastical. Atop the body of a lion was the head of a goat and a tail with a snake's head. The twisted beast growled at Jocelyn from its perch and made a great leap down into the grass.

"Oh, bloody hell."

The beast was larger than a normal lion and, judging by the light emanating from between its fangs, far more dangerous. The monster prowled slowly, matching Jocelyn's sidesteps. It didn't take long for the beast to make its move, dashing towards Jocelyn with fangs and claws bared. The Riskbreaker barely dodged the claws of the chimera, not quite expecting a beast of such size to be so agile.

Jocelyn made a strike with his sword, but unfortunately the beast ducked. It gave Jocelyn a reminder that he was dealing with more than one head as the snake it had for a tail lunged at him. On reflex Jocelyn lashed out his right hand and heard something land to his left as blood splashed around. The beast wounded and aggravated now roared, flames spilling from between its fangs and spreading on the grass.

Jocelyn leapt back from the quickly propagating fire, though the smoke made him lose sight of his opponent. Had he been just a tad slower his head would have been knocked off his shoulders by the chimera's claws. Entirely on reflex Jocelyn shifted his body ever so slightly and then pulled the trigger of his pistol. The slug directly hit the beast in the eye, lodging itself in the skull. He took no chances and swung his sword three times, severing the head from the goat on the beast's back and then nearly removing the lion's head.

Jocelyn's knees hit the ground, breathing in heavily after the arduous ordeal. Before he could properly rest however, he heard the groan of leather. His query stood before him, one hand at his hip and the other stroking his chin.

"Well, this is most peculiar. It is indeed odd for a human to move this…elegantly."

"Ashley…"

"You're like a marionette, as though your soul and body had been separated somehow." The prophet pondered as he walked through the grass. "Tell me, Jocelyn, what made you shut your soul away?"

Suddenly Jocelyn was no longer at the Gallows, instead he was at his home. It was dark, mid-winter snow falling thick outside and the only light was from the moon outside which illuminated the prone forms of two men and a woman. Jocelyn's hands were wet and cooling rapidly. In his arms was a young girl, a fragile, dollish thing. Her lips were white and one of her frail, wispy hands stroked Jocelyn's face weakly. She then whispered a single word:

"Bro…ther."

"So, you killed them." Jocelyn's mind was snapped back to the Gallows, Ashley standing over him.

"They were taken by a manslayer, a beast."

"No, you failed a brother, as a knight, you failed to protect them."

"Ashley!!!!"

Jocelyn's sword missed Ashley, the criminal doing an impossible leap to the top of the ramparts.

"Oaks!"

Below Ashley was Ezekiel restraining Emer, her hands tied behind her back. Jocelyn cursed at the fire between him and the criminals.

"Chase me, Jocelyn Oaks, and perhaps then you may understand what you are."

In a flash Ashley and Ezekiel were gone, the scorching flames providing them the wall they needed. By the time Jocelyn left the Gallows the grass was scorched black and Jocelyn could only hear Ashley's challenge ringing in his head.


	5. Tale 4

Tale 4: A House of the Unholy

Macbeth crouched amongst the blackened ground of the Gallows, grinding burnt grass in his hand. There was no doubt that Riot had been here earlier as a brush fire couldn't have started as well as the bodies of their men by the entrance. Shaking the ash from his hands, Macbeth looked to the priest who was examining the execution stand.

"What do you think of this, David?"

"Witchcraft. The stench of the Dark is thick here, even for this heathen's paradise." David took a handkerchief out from his coat and covered his nose with it.

"Yes, I haven't seen anyone use it to the extent that heretic does. Although we've never seen him do it to this extent, so why now?"

"Who knows what that man thinks? I doubt even Ezekiel knows?"

Macbeth ran his hands through his ivory hair. He knew full well that Riot could use the Dark, but up until the incident at the Manor he hadn't even done the slightest thing with the force. This was all so irritating.

"Where are Arya and Grieme?" Macbeth was already getting onto his horse.

"Near Gariland I believe, so they probably couldn't get to us fast enough."

"I suppose we'll just have to hunt the heretic.

Within a few hours the entire regimen Macbeth had brought with him were going north, hot on the trail of Ashley Riot.

XXXXX

Several days passed since the incident in Lionel. Jocelyn had his ears talked off by some idiot official about how the Gallows were burnt beyond repair. Frankly he didn't understand the fool's ire as the moldy old ruin wasn't getting any use anyway. After extricating himself he decided to start chasing after Riot; the absolute last thing he needed was adding Vic's corpse on top of letting his target go twice.

What exactly did Ashley do back there anyway? The stench of blood, Catherine's body in his own arms, that was years ago. First the dragon at the manner, the chimera at the Gallows, and now mind manipulation. What exactly what Ashley?

"I suppose your admiration was rightfully placed, Emer."

Jocelyn could see his destination amidst the plains, another dusty old ruin that was miraculously still standing. He'd been hearing of this place ever since he was a youth: Orbonne Monastery, the beginning and the end of the Zodiac Brave Story. A man taking goods to the south said he saw Ezekiel heading toward the place, though there was no sign of Ashley.

Jocelyn hopped off his horse and walked on the cobblestones overgrown with weeds and grass. Quite frankly he was amazed the place wasn't some sort of national monument instead of a relic on the verge of collapse, though considering the span in years between the Story's publication and its actual events he supposed those of Saint Ajora had a lot to do with it. Still though, what was with Ashley going from one scene of the famous tale to another?

Shuttering his rambling thoughts Jocelyn stepped over the threshold of the building, walking on an ancient wooden door rotted through and with rust instead of hinges. The old place had no pews and the ceiling was missing in places, letting the afternoon sun shine through. Even a gigantic cross in the back was tarnished beyond redemption.

Jocelyn waved his hand around to keep the dust motes from making him cough. Fortunately it seemed the dust had a purpose as there were quite a few sets of footprints embedded on the floor. One of them was smaller, definitely belonging to a woman. They led to a staircase in the back descending into the lower levels. Drawing sword and pistol Jocelyn vanished into the dimly lit basement.

XXXXX

Several miles from the monastery however, Vic was in the back of a carriage with Ezekiel at the reins. She was nothing short of embarassed by letting herself get captured by the very men she was assigned to find. If she was alone she might have stood a chance, but unfortunately the thing complicating matters was asleep on a pile of sheets. The young Sidney Bardorba was unusually complacent for a hostage, though considering that Riot's most intimidating words were merely warnings Vic could see how a child would relax to the point of complacency.

"She's not spoken since the manor." Ezekiel looked over his shoulder at Vic "Guess what happened shocked her a little too much."

"You're quite considerate for a kidnapper and a cultist."

"Say what you will, but harming you isn't our goal."

"And I suppose what you're friend is doing isn't putting Oaks in danger?"

"If it were possible to kill him, then perhaps."

Impossibly Ashley appeared out of nowhere and was sitting next to Ezekiel at the front of the carriage. Ashley turned his attention to Vic who was trying to figure out just how someone could literally pop out of thin air.

"Concerned for your partner, I take it?"

"Considering that you might have set another horror as a trap it's perfectly natural."

"Well, it is a horror, but it's more of a feast than a trap."

Ashley shuttered the carriage's curtain between Vic and himself, signalling that her inquiries were postponed for the moment. Ashley glanced at Ezekiel.

"What do you think of our Riskbreaker?"

"If he is a man he's certainly of a kind I've never seen before."

"Well…" Ashley stroked his chin thoughfully "he is rare, that's for sure."

"The Duke, the Blades, and now a Riskbreaker that's more like a monster than a man. Was this all a part of something, Ashley?"

Ezekiel received a glare and not words from Ashley, prompting him to stumble into an apology.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to suspect anything."

"All is fine Ezekiel, though I hope Jocelyn isn't one to get himself in too much trouble."

XXXXX

Jocelyn should have been perplexed by all the lanterns in the basement being lit, but considering that Ashley had been here it was far from the most unusual thing he would probably encounter. Everything in the room was covered in dust, from the monolithic rows of shelves to the books that were as big as desks. Why such ancient volumes were lying around was beyond Jocelyn, though considering the place's weighty pedigree he certainly couldn't blame others for staying away.

Jocelyn continued walking in the rows of books, going further down into the basements. When he came to the second one his eyes were immediately drawn to a rather spectacular site: a group of skeletons that were somehow standing and armed. They looked at Jocelyn with empty eye sockets and growled at him using mouths without tongues.

"Battling in life and now in death, eh? Unfortunately Ramza isn't here to repeat that scene."

Jocelyn had no time for such things, interesting as they were. He holstered his pistol and held his sword in both hands. The first skeleton to move came at him with a spear, though Jocelyn dodged to the side and then smashed the thing as his sword swung through bleached bone. Another came at him with mace but again Jocelyn evaded and countered. A third, however, came at him with a dagger and would have gotten his face had he not managed to twist his neck just enough.

Jocelyn swiped his thumb across the shallow gash on his cheek and looked at the skeletons that kept coming. He grit his teeth at the regimen that rose from the stairs and knew he couldn't keep this pace up. Like a squirrel Jocelyn scrambled up to the top of a shelf though he was barely on the old thing for a second before it decided to wobble.

Despite Jocelyn's rather ungraceful attempt to keep the thing from tipping over it slammed into the floor and then proceeded to go right _through_ it. Jocelyn fell through rotted wood on one floor and then fell right through the next one. When all was said and done, he had to have dropped at least twenty meters. Jocelyn shook his head, trying desperately to get the dust and lord-only-knows what out of his hair.

After picking himself up off the floor Jocelyn craned his neck to see the sizable hole that kept leading upward. He could hear the cries of the undead in the upper levels, but they wouldn't be bothering him for a few minutes. Resting on one of the less rotted bookcases, Jocelyn couldn't help but wonder what was causing all these bizarre occurences. He couldn't help but get that same, sickening feeling he had back at the manor and at the Gallows. He was starting to wonder if Ashley was the cause of this or if it was something…_different_. He had heard old ghost stories of phantoms and monsters in ancient ruins or abandoned towns, but they were nothing like this.

Jocelyn's thoughts were brought to a close when some unearthly groan came from deeper in the basement. He readied himself for whatever horrors Ashley decided to leave him this time. Inching his way into the adjacent rooms he thought he couldn't be surprised any more, but he was ever so wrong. His eyes widened and it was a bloody miracle that he hadn't dropped either his gun or his sword out of shock.

Laying curled up on the floor like a titanic dog was a monster of myth. Folded on its back were leathery wings of a great span and its tail, thick as a tree, swished around lazily. Jocelyn's face was quickly drenched in cold sweat as he prayed to anything he could that the beast before him would ignore him.

No such luck though; the creature stretched wing, leg, and tail and opened a gaping maw of a mouth. And then it saw Jocelyn. It roared in response to the intruder, the great sound shaking the entire floor if not the building. Like a starting shot it made Jocelyn's legs finally break free of their paralysis.

The Riskbreaker dodged just as the dragon's mouth attempted to bite him. Running towards the side did Jocelyn little good as the thing's tail came swinging around at a speed not befitting a being of such size. Jocelyn immediately fell face first and felt the wind rushing past his hair as the dragon's tail barely missed him. He scrambled back up just as the tail made its return pass and instead of ducking, Jocelyn vaulted over the appendage and nearly tripped as his feet hit the floor.

The dragon was clearly becoming irritated at Jocelyn constantly hopping around. Jocelyn wasn't much better off, his sword making little more than glancing blows or flesh wounds to the thick, adamantine hide. Reaching its absolute limit of patience the dragon lunged down with its jaws at Jocelyn who couldn't move out of the way in time. It was then that he did either the stupidest or the most brilliant thing anyone would have done: stood his ground and thrust his sword upward. Razor sharp teeth the size of dirks were within a hair of Jocelyn's limbs and his hand was covered in slobber. The tip of his sword was just poking out of the beast's skull and the hilt was touching the roof of its mouth.

The dragon collapsed as its brain had been skewered, though its entire body vanished into dust before it even hit the ground. Jocelyn unceremoniously fell onto the floor as the adrenaline that had been keeping him standing had finally run out.

"I am so damned lucky that thing forgot it could breath fire."

Jocelyn took a minute or two to regain his composure before attempting to stand again. Over in the corner he saw something etched into the ancient wood on floor. There was only one word.

"Yuguewood?"

He couldn't quite grasp what was going through Ashley's mind, but he had to follow nonetheless. He began his walk up to the surface, aware that he'd have to deal with a load of the undead on his way.

XXXXX

Unbeknownst to Jocelyn several floors above where he was were Father David and two of the Blades. Hearing that the Riskbreaker was afoot they decided to follow him and see if he was planning anything. If they had known that within just a few seconds of going into the basements that they'd be accosted by walking skeletons then they probably wouldn't have been so quick to follow Jocelyn.

Father David overturned one of the husks they had dispatched, a little sickened that he actually let them get so close to him. The Dark definitely ran thick and heavy here, though perhaps Riot's meddling helped as well. And that Riskbreaker…just who was he?

"Sir, everything is clear from here."

One of the knights called from the stairwell going downward. David shouldered the hefty blunderbuss he had and followed behind the two as they headed to the next basement. Slowly they inched along the creaky, ancient floorboards and wound through the stacks.

Not ten seconds after walking through the rows of stacks did one of the shelves come slamming down onto one of the knights. Even he couldn't react in time and so did several hundred pounds of rotten wood and fragile paper slam into his body. David and the remaining knight readied their weapons and attempted to find their assailant. No sound of breath or the creaking of wood, perhaps meaning that their attacker was either nonexistent or just very good.

"Sir, is Hans alive?"

David merely glanced at the giant shelf that had slammed into the floor. Judging by the pool collecting next to it David didn't need to check any further.

"Is that you, you VKP butcher?" he called out, though no answer came.

The priest had no time for games and decided that his patience had run out. An eldritch force began gathering at his fingertips and with a sudden snaps five, ten, fifteen stacks of books went flying. David didn't let it stop there, firing blast after blast from his fingertips until nearly half of the shelves had been either blown to bits or thrown to the floor.

"Blast, I shouldn't have lost my temper."

Indeed, there was enough smoke to believe that several troops' worth of soldier had fired their muskets en masse. Before the haze cleared, however, rapid footsteps came from somewhere amidst the smoke. David only managed to react the second his remaining guard let off a sickening gurgle as something pierced him. Without thinking David fired his blunderbuss, but the round merely hit his guard who was still on his attacker's blade.

Dropping the knight to the floor, Jocelyn aimed his pistol at David. There was no way to miss, the slug slamming into David's gut. Practically at the same time Jocelyn fired his pistol his free hand pulled his sword out from the dead knight's body and then swung at David. The last thing the priest ever saw was a bright silver gleam whipping through the air.

Jocelyn leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He never thought he'd have to deal with one of Ashley's monstrosities and the Blades in the same day, let alone the same hour.

"You bring quite a bit of trouble don't you, Ashley?"


	6. Tale 5

Tale 5: Questions in the Misty Wood

Jocelyn almost immediately went from the old Monastery to Riovanes in the north. He would have gone straight to the Yuguewood had he not realized that he had gone three days with only the barest amount of rest and his horse was half-dead by the time he arrived at the city gates. For the next few days he was at one of the inns resting.

Jocelyn lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. Normally when he was in this sort of situation he'd be in a daze, but he was never stupid enough to lose his discipline during an assignment. Besides, with all he'd been seeing he didn't need drugs to start wondering where fantasy and reality blurred.

"…_nyt..ng?"_

"…_..ust..n…d…in."_

Jocelyn's eyes scanned the room, wondering where those voices had just come from. They had been unusually faint, as though the wind had carried them from far away.

As if the answer that question, Jocelyn was suddenly brought to the floor when his knees gave way. He was no longer in his room in Riovanes. No, his eyes saw another place and were looking at someone he had never seen before.

XXXXX

"Blast, must we scour the entire countryside to find Riot?" Maria crossed her arms, aiming her question at the silver-haired, dark-skinned woman that was leaning against a rather impressive tree.

"Were you expectin' an easy hunt, lass?"

"It seems that as soon as we hear of him he's vanished into thin air. And what Adrian told us of Father David…"

"Aye, it seems that this land will take a great deal of us 'fore the journey's end."

Maria tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked at the trees surrounding herself and her compatriot.

"This land, Ivalice, why is it so full of evil places, Arya?"

"I have seen places where the Dark is thick back home, though it is true Ivalice attracts it far more than Valendia."

Macbeth had strolled in on his horse as the two ladies were conversing.

"Oh, Othello."

"I take it you've heard from Adrian?" Arya hefted the sizable musket she had been letting lay on the ground.

"Yes, his pigeon arrived but an hour ago. He'll probably be in the Yuguewood by now."

"We're after Riot's head and yet he plays cat and mouse with that VKP butcher. Is this but a game to him?"

Macbeth eyed Maria as her nails seemed ready to break the skin of her palms. Always the passionate one, she was.

"It does seem that he's using the Riskbreaker, though for what purpose is beyond my understanding. Those servants of his are also proving to be troublesome."

"Seems like 'e's not keepin' his dogs on the leash." Arya grinned.

"Indeed, he may summon but he bothers not to control."

"Like the dragon back at Orbonne."

While Arya was confused at what Maria just said, Macbeth did not hesitate to strike her across the face. Maria fell to her knees with Macbeth looking enraged.

"That was him; that butcher!"

XXXXX

Jocelyn merely grimaced as he spat blood from his mouth; pity that he shared more than just the ears and eyes of someone else.

"Sharing the eyes and ears of someone else; I believe it's called…clairvoyance?"

Jocelyn immediately went for his sword upon hearing the foreign voice in his room. He would have unsheathed it had the intruder not raised his hand and show no signs of going for the exotic, curved blade at his hip. Jocelyn loosened his grip on his hilt, but his hand still did not stray far.

His "guest" was around his own age, though shorter and slighter of build and clad in an ostentatious red. His black hair was cut short and his goatee was neatly trimmed with his eyes an unusually light shade of brown. His face was quite gaunt, his cheek bones sunken as well as his eyes.

"Who are you?"

"Maxwell Banquo, by order of the Grand Steward we're to be partners."

Banquo extended his hand to Jocelyn, though the latter did not respond. Even had Jocelyn's hands not been clutching his sword he still wouldn't have done anything.

"Riskbreakers don't work in pairs, nor do missions have a sudden change of plans, no matter the circumstances."

"Oh? I suppose you'd rather go into dark, festering places bursting at the seams with walking corpses and otherworldly creatures alone then?"

"…So, you know of them as well."

"Me, the Blades, Parliament, the Cardinal, it seems the only ones who didn't were you and our lovely young Inquisitor."

"Continue."

The tension having dropped slightly, Banquo took a seat on a chair in the room. He crossed his legs and eyed Jocelyn.

"You and Miss Emer surprised us when you set out so quickly. After they heard that the Blades had gone as well they sent me to help. After all, two blades are better than one."

"You said the VKP knew about the Dark." Jocelyn didn't seem interested in Banquo so much as his information.

"I was one of several who have long studied it. After all, it is a power that has been around since time immemorial. Ivalice has a perplexing amount of wellsprings."

"Wellsprings?"

"Like lightning rods for the more vile elements of the world. Stick enough bodies in one place and the Dark rushes to it like a wolf to fresh meat."

"You make it sound as though men somehow created these things."

Banquo grinned at Jocelyn, as though he were the adult knowing what the ignorant child did not.

"The Dark most certainly is a strange power. Those who have even touched the slightest of its power begin to change. Within you especially something seems to have awakened. Still though, the Dark is usually just allowed to be wielded, not tamed like a horse or a dog."

"And still people decide to try?"

"Yes, and because of that men had the sense to keep their cities far from the Dark and fill the larders of faraway and hated places. Oh yes, this Ivalice has had many a chance to fill its vile ruins and forests with the Dark."

Perhaps having heard enough Jocelyn slipped into his coat and put his weapons in their proper places.

"Banquo, you'd do well to come back where you came. My sword hand does not want you around twice."

"Careful in the Yuguewood, its mists are treacherous."

Jocelyn left without another word, not even bothering to look to Banquo as he went downstairs. Banquo walked over the window in the room, seeing as Jocelyn departed southward for the forest that ominously rose in the horizon. It was then that he finally acknowledged the presence just outside the door.

"Eavesdropping isn't exactly polite, Mr. Black."

Stepping out from the slightest of shadows was a wiry man with a shock of black hair and piercing violet eyes. Most of his thin face was obscured by the high collar of his jacket and the black bandanna around his forehead. He just stood there, looking at Banquo.

"Why didn't you deal with him?" the man's voice was barely above a whisper, but commanding nonetheless.

"Killing people in public places has never been my forte. Besides, I thought you were the assassin, Adrian."

Adrian was obviously not one for banter, already slinking out of the inn quietly. Banquo couldn't help but grin. After all, a LOT of accidents happened in the Yuguewood.

XXXXX

Far from Riovanes Vic was inside a rather sparse, long-abandoned fort sitting in its main hall. She would have escaped, but being several miles away from the nearest town didn't help matters at all. She sighed as she stretched her legs on moth-eaten mattress she was on.

"Yer awfully quiet, y'know."

Ezekiel was in the middle of the hall tending to a small fire with a pot bubbling over it. The young Lady Sidney was sitting next to him, entranced by the flickering tongues of flame. Vic felt that it was a bit funny how the girl attached herself to Ezekiel.

"Aren't you afraid that I would arm myself and attack you?"

"Don't make me laugh, woman. Ye may be bright as this very fire, but ye couldn't tell a pommel from a blade to save yer life."

"Why did you seize the manor?"

Ezekiel answered her not, tending to the fire.

"Answer me!"

"And why should I?"

_That damned Duke was close to severing ties with us_

Vic turned her head to the source of the odd voice she just heard. Surprisingly she saw some sort of doppelganger of Ezekiel, though transparent and ethereal. The copy continued.

_After decades of alliance with us he sought to cut us off. _

"Cut you off?"

"What in blazes?" Ezekiel finally noticed Vic speaking to someone that wasn't him or the girl.

_The Duke fears the weight of his ancestors' sins might come to him. All old men do._

"So you sought to make him pay now?" Vic turned her gaze to the actual Ezekiel, who merely glared at her "Answer!"

_His family has long dealt in the Dark, though now he seems to have lost the stomach after all. Funny considering what Ashley did for_-

The copy suddenly vanished, perhaps due to Ezekiel slicing a heavy knife across his forearm. He grimaced at Vic.

"A Heart-seer, eh? Seems the Dark has touched you as well."

"So, is this what Ashley can do?"

"Merely a parlor trick to him; he can see things yet to pass, push his will unto others, he's the strongest I've heard of."

"Has he done so with you then?"

Ezekiel didn't answer, going to fetch bandages for his arm. Vic gazed at him, wondering if Ashley was indeed thinking of him as an equal or just using him.

XXXXX

Jocelyn arrived at the edge of the Yuguewood, stepping of his horse. The trees were so close together that a squirrel could probably go through the entirety of the place without touching the ground. The trees were ghastly, skeletal things that barely had leaves and looked as though they would collapse if someone leaned against them.

Still, the place seemed impenetrable due to the dense, unnatural fog rolling through with a life of its own. Jocelyn approached slowly, inching into the thick fog lest he trouble something behind its veil.

Before he knew it he couldn't even see where he had come in from. In fact he couldn't even see his feet and the only way he knew the trees were there was because he was always brushing against their stiff, brittle branches. It was going to be awhile before he saw Ashley.

Back at the edge of the Yuguewood stood Adrian, gazing at the fog that permeated throughout the forest. He had barely missed Jocelyn, though he surmised that it wouldn't take long to catch up to him, even with the fog obscuring his vision. He hurried into the fog, though he was definitely unaware that even he would not be able to escape its trickery.

XXXXX

Deep in the forest Ashley waited, sitting on the root of a rather mighty oak tree. He lazed on the dried out husk, content on being patient. He knew Jocelyn had entered the forest just a minute ago, but it would probably take him awhile to get to the clearing in the middle.

The sound of footsteps seemed to change Ashley's mind however, wondering if he should have given the Riskbreaker more credit. He reluctantly rose from his seat, though to his dismay a thin man clad in black entered the clearing, not Jocelyn. Ashley drew his scimitar cautiously, inching sideways at this new addition.

"I don't remember inviting you; your name?"

"Adrian Black, that is all."

In a flash Adrian has vanished and was instantly behind Ashley. By the time he swung his arm for his dagger to pierce Ashley though, his target was gone. Adrian rolled sideways and barely missed the downward chop that would have cloven him in two. Ashley merely stood as Adrian got back up, drawing a knife from his hip for his empty hand to hold. Ashley twirled his sword in a figure eight, as though he were exercising his wrist.

Adrian went at Ashley again, swinging knife and dagger as quickly and accurately as humanly possible. He still missed though, his sparse movements behind dodged by a hair by Ashley. Despite the razor sharp blades aiming for his vitals Ashley wasn't trying to counter, letting Adrian work himself up.

Adrian finally made a mistake, extending his arm too far and allowing Ashley to strike with the butt of his hilt. A knee to the gut followed and then another hilt strike to the back of the head. Adrian fell rather inelegantly, though he was still conscious.

"Tch, another one of the hatchet-men of the Cardinal; I expected better."

"We're a vanguard on a mission. We are to clean the land of the rabble that has infected it."

"Spare me your flowery words, child, I've no mind to tolerate them, nor the patience for your presence."

Just like Adrian had done a moment before, Ashley vanished in a flash. Unlike Ashley though, Adrian's legs weren't responding to what his head told them.

XXXXX

Jocelyn was, to put it lightly, completely lost. He wasn't walking through the woods so much as he was just stumbling blindly. His long hair had the occasional twig caught in it and his face was cut by the whipping branches of the trees at times. He would have climbed up one of the trees, but he wasn't sure if the limbs could hold his weight nor was he sure how high the fog got. He sat on a dried out log to give his legs a rest.

Jocelyn picked the brittle twigs out of his hair and examined the scratches he had accumulated. He wasn't foreign to having to rely on something besides his eyes, but the Yuguewood didn't give him any chances to do that. He literally hadn't heard a sound besides his own footsteps since he entered the place. Wellspring indeed, any smart animal or human would have kept away from this place. He still wasn't sure why Ashley kept luring him to these places.

Perhaps due to some divine design Jocelyn could hear the faintest sounds of something off in the distance. Though not sure of what they were he ran towards them anyway, assuming that something living would have to be making them. With his sword drawn Jocelyn sped towards the sounds, hearing them getting louder with each step.

By the time Jocelyn had arrived though the sounds stopped. He was in a clearing that, inexplicably, had no fog in it at all. In the middle of it was Ashley standing over a man in black collapsed on the ground. Judging by his bloodies clothes and Ashley having a knife in his shoulder Jocelyn didn't need an explanation as to what happened.

Ashley turned his head, almost as if noticing Jocelyn for the first time.

"I told the idiot that if he kept going he'd end up getting himself killed." Ashley pulled the knife out of his arm "It seems the hunger of the Dark decided it wanted to feed now."

"Speaking ill of the dead, Riot?"

Ashley had definitely spoken far too early as Adrian had managed to get to his knees and was chanting something.

"_The wandering blade, from aimless travels, I lead you into battle. By the great glyph, written in blood, shall your thirst be quenched. Drashna Firklei Vucik Narabtu!_"

At the end of Adrian's chant came a glyph floating ten feet off the ground. Slowly a tall figure emerged from it, dressed in odd, loose clothes. Any sort of face was hard to discern as it was obscured by the figure wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and being covered in bandages though beneath them Jocelyn could see a pair of glowing blue lights.

The creature's bandaged hands held a sheathed sword and thus it drew it, showing a blade that gleamed like silver fire. Holding the sword in both hands the creature took a stance and gave off a sound like a dry hiss. Adrian seemed to revel in his servant's summoning.

"This has never been your divine right, Riot. Today our brethren are avenged."

Adrian went for Ashley, both hands armed with dagger and knife. The revenant on the other hand noticed Jocelyn's presence and went for him. Despite nearly twenty feet being between them the creature cleared the distance in an instant, barely giving Jocelyn time to react. The thing's sword actually struck against Jocelyn's so hard he was pushed back. Jocelyn managed to recover, though he was already being swung at a second time by his opponent.

For several minutes Jocelyn and the creature fought back and forth, swinging their swords though neither landing a hit. Even with all of his experience Jocelyn couldn't hit this thing. At best he'd strike against his opponent's sword and at worst he'd miss it completely and take a shallow wound. Jocelyn noticed the thing didn't seem to be breathing. If he didn't end this soon exhaustion would do so for him.

Ashley was faring a bit better than Jocelyn, though not by much. Despite Adrian having been on the ground just moments ago he fought with the vigor of a berserker. Ashley was still dodging by a hair, but not from effortlessness. Even when Ashley went on the offensive it was as though Adrian had vanished from where he was aiming. He had no chance to cast anything either, Adrian's ferocity seeing to that.

Jocelyn was beginning to become worn out, his movements getting bigger and rougher while the creature didn't seem to exhaust in the slightest. Jocelyn went for a thrust, but it was deflected and then he felt the pommel of his opponent's sword smash into his gut. Jocelyn saw stars for a moment and when his daze passed he narrowly kept his gut from being sliced open.

The creature swept Jocelyn's legs out from under him using the flat of its sword and then went for a downward thrust. All that it hit was earth, Jocelyn rolling out of the way just in time. The two of them down has some distance between them and both were waiting for the other to make the move. For some reason it hesitated, though not because it was tired. No, Jocelyn's eyes were very unsettling, like the creature was looking at a beast it had awoken from a deep, deep slumber.

"Move, damn you!" Adrian commanded, though his servant did not obey.

"If there is one thing everything in this world has it is fear, even if it's something like your servant."

Perhaps Jocelyn had realized this as well, whether conscious or not. He stood and took his sword in both hands, charging at the creature. Strangely he swung his sword a few feet away from his target, not hitting anything but air. Or at least the sword didn't.

Something roared across the clearing like a wounded animal. From where Jocelyn stood burst what appeared to be huge crystals that continued to barrel through the ground. The revenant was ripped apart in an instant by the moving spikes, leaving nothing but torn cloth. Adrian was awestruck by the display to the point of being distracted enough for Ashley to finally sink his scimitar into Adrian's chest. Funnily the assassin didn't even seem to notice, as though what Jocelyn had just done amazed him to the point of not realizing that he had just been killed.

Jocelyn was the only one in the place who didn't look at what he just did, having passed out on his feet. Ashley practically smirked at what he saw before him. He only wondered what Jocelyn himself would think when he woke up.

XXXXX

Jocelyn woke to the sound of crackling. Close by he saw a fire being tended to by Ashley. Jocelyn propped himself up on his elbows and heard something in the misty woods. Considering where he was it was probably some wandering ghost.

"Don't worry, nothing will bother us, at least until the ward vanishes." Ashley gestured with the piece of wood he had in his hand "Tell me, Oaks, did you meet Banquo by any chance? I dislike believing there's another with as rotten an odor as him."

"He told me about these…wellsprings."

"And what do you think?"

Jocelyn glanced at the crystal he had somehow conjured earlier.

"I've seen enough oddities to last 'til the end of time."

"Oh, that." Ashley stroked his chin at the crystals "Believe it or not that has nothing to do with the Dark. Well, perhaps tangentially."

"I trained in the Kingsguard, but that was no Break Art."

"Kingsguard? Bah, you're far different than that. Even the greatest couldn't kill as efficiently as you."

"What mean you?" Jocelyn's eyes narrowed.

"Memories, Oaks, memories."

Jocelyn was suddenly back at that night several years ago. There was something different though. Four young people stood in the sitting room of the manor, all of them with eyes like gold and hair black as night. On one side one of the men was helping the oldest woman hang a portrait.

"Careful with that, Edgar, I poured my soul into that."

"Honestly, Liz, making your brother do things like this."

"Big brothers are obligated to help their younger siblings."

"And yet you're quick to not help Jocelyn with things."

The older man, a regal figure with a goatee, chuckled from the other side. Elizabeth hid her blushing face behind the elaborate fan she carried. The younger woman, a frail, doll-like thing, smiled at her siblings and read the large volume she had in her lap.

"Arthur, when is Jocelyn coming home?" she asked.

"You know him, always the workaholic. You know he hasn't broken a promise though."

Suddenly the door to the room burst open. A figure in black made a beeline for Edgar and before anyone could react he fell to the floor, his neck sliced open horrifically. Catherine shrieked like a banshee at seeing her brother's blood on the floor while Arthur had already drawn his rapier.

He managed to swing once before he fell as well. He was sidestepped with ease and then the attacker's dagger found his heart. Catherine was paralyzed beyond doing anything besides seeing the killer bear down on her. Elizabeth, on the other hand, wrenched Arthur's sword from his still-warm hands.

"Get away from my sister!"

The killer didn't even need to look at her. Unceremoniously he plunged his dagger into Elizabeth's heart. Catherine attempted to run, but her body was one too delicate for such things. She looked over her shoulder and saw her killer coming.

"Br-"

The dagger plunged into her abdomen. She gave no resistance, actually reaching out for her attacker and removing his hood. She saw a pair of eyes and a head of hair just like her own.

"Stop it!"

Jocelyn was flung back into the present, clutching his head in agony. Ashley propped his chin on his hand.

"The youngest son of a noble house and a member of the Kingsguard loses all four of his siblings in a massacre. What sugary garbage. With your skill you became an assassin of the state and gladly sent men to their graves."

"Shut up."

"And then your brother Arthur angered the wrong men. You snapped and became the last member of your house because of your own hand."

"Lies!" Jocelyn shook his head violently.

"No man could hope to survive what you have. Only a hatchet man like you could do that."

Jocelyn had finally reached his limit and swung at Ashley. He hit nothing but air as Ashley vanished and appeared elsewhere.

"Memories, we can make them ourselves, if only to keep bury guilt and keep pain away. Your masters may have burned that into you, but you wanted them to do it."

""What the hell do you want?"

"The truth, Oaks."

"Tch, garbage."

"And yet you have seen the damned walk, slain creatures that Ramza himself would never have dreamed of, and yet you would deny them?"

Ashley began walking towards the edge of the clearing.

"Ashley!"

"If you want the truth, then come find me at Ziekden."

He vanished into the night mist, leaving Jocelyn nothing but questions.


	7. Tale 6

Tale 6: The Two Riskbreakers

Daybreak could not have earlier for Jocelyn. After Ashley's trickery last night he could not rest. He still didn't know what was the thing that weighed more on his mind: Ashley's "memories" or the line of crystals in the clearing. Jocelyn had no clue as to what that was.

Jocelyn ran his hand across one of the stalactites, practically seeping with some otherworldly power. They were smooth and their edges sharper than any sword he could think of. Did the Dark cause this, or something else?

Jocelyn gathered his sword and pistol, walking out of the misty Yuguewood. Hopefully Ziekden would lead him towards answers.

XXXXX

Days had passed since Macbeth last heard from Adrian. If someone as skillful as Adrian had not done so then there was only one conclusion. Macbeth rubbed his temples at the thought of it. First David, then Adrian; just how many more would that butcher claim?

Macbeth exited his room, leaving Maria on the bed undisturbed. It was already morning, the grass still covered in dew. He gazed into the town and pondered about this land, this Ivalice. So much war, so many wellsprings; what exactly was with this land?"

"Something on your mind, Sir Macbeth?"

Sitting on the ledge of the walkway was Banquo, wearing a garish red cloak and smirking at Macbeth. Macbeth narrowed pale his eyes at him.

"Where's Adrian?"

"Oh being scattered to the winds at the moment. If he caught a good breeze he should be in Lesalia, Eagrose, Limberry, and Lionel at the same time."

"Just tell me he was killed; I've no patience for your irritating sense of humor."

"Yes, yes, he was killed, the beast he summoned was smashed, and I had to burn the bastard just to make doubly sure he wouldn't be haunting our arses in the night."

"Wait, you didn't mention Riot or the Riskbreaker."

"Well when neither of them is dead it's hardly worth saying so."

Macbeth, irritated with just Banquo's presence, grabbed him and then pinned to the wall with his forearm. Banquo was just barely keeping Macbeth's arm from crushing his throat.

"You are the most tiresome, most devious, and most…WORM-LIKE mongrel I have ever dealt with."

"Such kind words, dear sir."

Macbeth dropped Banquo to the ground who massaged his throat. Macbeth sighed and leaned against the ledge.

"For the love of God tell me you came to do more than just act the buffoon."

"Well, I can tell you that Oaks set out this morning."

"Oaks?"

"The Riskbreaker who's giving you so much trouble: Jocelyn Oaks."

"Lovely, going from a butcher victim to an actual butcher." Macbeth practically chuckled "Might I expect he'll be just as welcoming as he has before."

"Well, to be fair, you attacked him first. Considering he's been at every place Ashley has been at I suggest we follow him."

"We take our men to where he is, you will lead them."

Banquo sighed at Macbeth's utter tenacity to his mission. Back when he did find Adrian's body in the Yuguewood, Banquo had made sure never to mention the odd crystals that were in the clearing. After seeing those he couldn't wait to sink his blade into Jocelyn's body.

XXXXX

Fort Ziekden was a place of renown, mostly for it being the starting point of the Zodiac Brave Story. For centuries the place had been a moss-covered ruin until someone decided to rebuild it into a proper establishment. That was short-lived however as maintaining an outpost in a place with no activity had little point and it swiftly went to being just another abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. Though abandoned, it was currently inhabited by Ashley Riot who was in the entrance hall sharpening his scimitar. It was raining outside, the heavy pelts of the drops pelting the rock building like drums.

"When do you s'pose he'll be getting here?" Ezekiel asked.

"If he's quick, and I know he'll be, he should be arriving before sunset."

"Honestly Ashley, you keep going on with this like it's a game. Our lives are on the line here!"

"I don't play games Ezekiel, least of all with lives. Jocelyn has been progressing faster than I expected."

"You planned on him being able to smash a revenant and a dragon? Ashley, that isn't something humans should be able to do!"

Ashley pocketed his whetting stone and sheathed his sword. He looked to the stairwell leading into the lower floors.

"If you're going to listen in you might as well join in."

Footsteps came from the stairs, Vic slowing walking up them. She stopped at the top of them, her eyes meeting Ashley's.

"So, you actually decided to lead Oaks here? You're not expecting him to be gracious are you?"

"I expect to do what he has always done."

"You toy with him, leading him here and there with no purpose but just to lead him anew. What exactly are you aiming for here?"

Ashley walked over to Vic slowly, strolling around her. Vic kept from moving as he observed her, sizing her up.

"I thought at first I was just imagining things. It seems I forgot that sometimes that coincidence is in fact anything but."

"More of your gospels I take it?"

"Tch, soothsayers and flowery deadheads speak gospels; I am merely stating an observation."

Vic ground her teeth at Ashley constantly bouncing around with his words.

"I remember seeing you once in a record at the VKP headquarters in Valnain."

"Considering my…notoriety I would hope you would."

"Yes, that wouldn't surprise anyone, but that I saw you catalogued in a recruit list from more than fifty years ago should be impossible."

Vic swore she could see a shadow of a grin on Ashley's face, perhaps amused rather than annoyed that she managed to find something like that. Ezekiel looked at him, waiting for his response to Vic.

"I see that the Inquisitors of the VKP are one of the few things that _haven't_ stopped being razor-sharp."

"You don't deny it then?"

Ashley shrugged his shoulders, like a boy caught stealing cake during a party. It seemed that in spite of everything that she had seen over the past few days, even now Vic could be surprised.

"Yes, I have walked this earth far longer than any human before me. Such is the power of the Dark."

"And only you? Even the Cardinal's men who control the Dark are incapable of doing what you can?"

"Control?" Ashley chuckled, if ever so slightly "Ms. Emer, there is no such thing as _control_. Those fools believe they are shepherds, but you cannot corral the truly wild, just like the dog that is loyal up until it's hungry."

Before Vic and Ashley could continue with their conversation the sound of the heavy oaken door opening diverted them. In walked Jocelyn, his long hair plastered to his face and his clothes soaking wet from the downpour outside. He brushed his soaked bangs out of his eyes and looked to Vic.

"Well Emer, you're looking rather well for hostage."

"Your dryness certainly hasn't changed; I guess I should be relieved."

Despite the tension that Vic could feel in the room no one drew or readied their weapons. She swallowed nervously at who would act first. Jocelyn's eyes were on Vic.

"Emer, get over by me, now; the last thing I need is you getting caught again."

Vic hesitated for a moment. She wasn't quite sure if she'd caught up in the crossfire when she started moving. She stepped forward, though stopped to see if anyone was doing anything else. She took her steps one at a time. After more than a minute she was at Jocelyn's side and then quickly behind him like a daughter hiding behind her mother's leg.

Ashley and Jocelyn continued glaring at each other. Looking at the two of them lock eyes made the ball of nervousness in Vic's gut swell up even worse.

"Well Oaks, it seems I couldn't properly prepare anything for you. I can't necessarily ask you to wait while I give you something to do."

"You're correct, though I've no interest in crossing swords again."

"I s'pose afternoon tea would be a li'l much to ask." Ezekiel quipped in, his hand on the short sword at his hip.

"Keep your eye on the Inquisitor, Ezekiel; she can still disrupt things."

"And keep your eyes on me, Ashley." Jocelyn's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, though Ashley did the same with his own weapon.

"Well Oaks, you have my attention, so ask away."

Jocelyn lowered his hand to which Ashley responded in kind. The tension lowered enough for Ashley to take a seat on a chair close by. Ezekiel still had his hand on his short sword, though Jocelyn paid him no mind. Vic was the odd one out as she had nothing to rely on if a fight broke out.

"This entire plan of yours, it didn't really have anything to do with the young lady you kidnapped."

"No, not really; not to demean Miss Bardorba, but she's just to make sure her father doesn't send any more trouble after me."

"And yet we now have me and the Blades after you."

"After me, but for different reasons. Well, perhaps you personally have different reasons."

Jocelyn drew his sword and slammed the tip of it into the ground right in from of Ashley. Ezekiel stepped forward, but Ashley raised his hand in deference.

"This sword and the one you stole back in Valendia have been in my family since before they came to my homeland. You knew that."

"Well Sir Richard and Lady Agrippina are known far and wide."

"You knew I worked for the VKP, you were hoping I came there that night. You _chose_ to come to Ivalice because there's something here, something dark and hidden even among this land's untold places."

Everyone was silent. For a minute the only thing that could be heard was the downpour outside. Ashley fiddled with one of his forelocks and sighed.

"Eagrose, go there."

"Oh? No monologue like you did back in the Yuguewood?"

"Well we don't have the luxury of that since I smell a familiar stench just outside."

To punctuate Ashley's statement a series of shots came from the windows outside. Vic immediately ducked behind anything for cover while Ashley and Ezekiel were running down the stairs. Jocelyn drew his weapons and bounded over to Vic who was flat on the floor.

"Not one for gunfire, eh?"

"N-not at all."

"Get in a room and barricade it, I'll get you when this is over."

Vic knew there was no point in arguing with Jocelyn and ran as quickly as she could down the stairs. Jocelyn waited while the footsteps grew louder and eventually came inside the fort. Six men in crimson surcoats carrying rapiers arrived inside followed by a man in a red cloak.

"I was hoping that you would have skinned Riot by now. Did something change your mind?"

"Yes, that I told you what would happen if I met you again, Banquo."

Jocelyn lunged at Banquo with his broadsword, though he was met by a curved blade. One of the six Blades came for Jocelyn, but the slug from Jocelyn's pistol pierced his eye. Another swung at Jocelyn, but was parried by the barrel of Jocelyn's pistol and then ran through with his sword. The other four backed away, though Banquo grinned at Jocelyn being untouched.

"You are indeed what I expected, a warrior through and through."

"And you're just a slimy bastard if you expected me to believe your ruse back in Riovanes."

"The four of you find Riot; the rest can die for all I care."

The Blades, more than happy to get away from Jocelyn, could not run fast enough to get to that staircase and thus bolted for it. Straying his attention from Banquo for but a moment, Jocelyn swung his blade at the four fleeing Templars. Four black swords erupted from the ground and struck the Templars, their lives escaping from their bodies.

Banquo's eyes narrowed at the strange technique Jocelyn implemented. Before Jocelyn's head could turn Banquo had already cleared the distance between them and brought his sword down as hard as he could. Perhaps by instinct Jocelyn managed to step back enough to dodge. Banquo did the same as Jocelyn retaliated. The ensuing melee was quite a fruitless effort for the both of them, blows grazing each other at best. Even Jocelyn with his experience could only graze Banquo across his cheek and he wasn't sure if he could pull off one of those otherworldly techniques he had discovered.

Their blades clashed one after another, strikes glancing off steel and hilts locking with each other. While their swords were grinding against one another they glared beyond their blades. Banquo's tan orbs were burning like fire and Jocelyn's amber ones were like searing ice.

"Why you, why was it you!?"

Jocelyn didn't know what his opponent was accusing him of. Nonetheless he kept fighting and finally pushing Banquo back. Banquo forced himself to leap back and that's when Jocelyn made his move. Swinging his sword down, a wave fired at Banquo. Banquo himself merely got thrown back, but his sword shattered like glass. Before he could get up a silver spike was tickling his throat. Banquo couldn't even swallow for fear of his throat being sliced open.

"I suggest you think of how you could keep me from killing you."

"Oh shut it, a Riskbreaker is never bothered with having a bit of blood on his hands." Banquo ground his teeth in frustration at his predicament "Why you, why the HELL do you have it?!?"

"What in blazes are you talking about?"

"I know what I saw, you have the lost techniques, the sword of the gods."

"Swords of the gods? Are you saying I am wielding the Dark?"

"Oaks!"

Vic's call was enough of a chance for Banquo to turn tail and flee, leaving his shattered sword and pride behind. Jocelyn didn't bother chasing after him, knowing there to be no point. His sheathed his blade and walked over to Vic who was climbing the stairs. She gazed up at him, not quite sure what to say after all that happened over the past two weeks. Jocelyn took note of the sword sheathed in a white scabbard she had at her side.

"To Eagrose?" she asked.

"…Aye."


	8. Tale 7

Tale 7: The Unsung

Eagrose was a rather celebrated establishment; for some time I was just another anonymous town in western Ivalice, home to the rabble of bloated nobility and disenfranchised commoners. It wasn't until the Durai Papers were published that everyone starting flocking to it as if to worship the birthplace of Ramza, though any indication of which was the true estate of his Ramza had been lost; unsung indeed.

In the following years it had turned into a bustling metropolis, though the following state of the country made its expansion impossible forever. Quite a few places in the city were uninhabited due to there not being enough people to actually live in the buildings. Eagrose seemed like a ghost town at times, but only because the ratio between building and people was severely peculiar.

Jocelyn noticed this when he and Vic went to an inn, the owner being more than happy to give them two rooms; two LARGE rooms. He was currently in this overly large suite, sharpening his sword. His door opening interrupted him, Vic walking in. He just went back to edging his blade.

"You seem to be tenser than when I last saw you." Vic crossed her arms.

"I don't know what it is about this place; something about it has me anxious."

"The Gallows, the Monastery, the Yuguewood, all places that men have left behind, treating them as ghost stories."

"There are no ghost stories Emer, just the Dark."

Jocelyn examined his sword and sheathed it. He walked past Vic over to his jacket and slipped into it. She observed him as he armed himself.

"Oaks…this is no longer about the mission, is it?"

"No, in fact I don't think it was ever meant to be."

Vic stepped in front of her partner as he went for the door. Their eyes met.

"Oaks, you can't do this, you said that you never let your personal life and your professional one meet."

He didn't answer, making Vic question whether he really heard her. He stepped around her and exited his room.

"I have to know if Catherine's blood was spilled by me." Jocelyn stopped at hearing Vic's voice say that. He backpedaled into the room, noticing that Vic was staring into blank space. She turned to see Jocelyn. "Ashley, right?"

"I don't know what he showed me, but if there's one thing I've learned it's that this world is covered in secrets."

"Then leave them be! Let them stay hidden!"

"Vic…" Jocelyn rested his hand on her shoulder "If you want to leave then go ahead, go hide somewhere quietly and peacefully, never speak of me or anyone else ever again."

"You know that would be impossible, not with everything I've seen these days."

Jocelyn strolled over to the side of his bed and picked up something wrapped in a large cloth. His tossed the thing unceremoniously to Vic who caught it awkwardly. Vic untied the black cord around the cloth and let it fall, revealing the white sword they had retrieved back at Ziekden. It was quite simple, akin to Jocelyn's plain, elegant broadsword. It had no marking or decorations, its handle white as snow along with its lacquered sheath. The blade was sharp, sharper than anyone could imagine.

"If we're to press on I can't be worrying about you every second of the day; I hope you have an idea of how to wield a sword."

"Some, I took fencing during my academy years."

"Well first of all you might want to start by holding the damn thing properly."

Jocelyn made her place bother her hands on the hilt, one near the guard the other at the pommel. He then adjusted the scabbard tucked in her belt so the edge side was facing up. Holding the thing was a bit awkward, but she did have to admit that the thing did have a certain appeal to it.

"To think I'd be using a museum piece as a weapon."

"More like you're the first person in decades who is using it for its proper purpose. Come on, let's go."

They left the inn, swords at their hips even if Vic wasn't quite used to it. If there was one problem with their current predicament it was that they didn't know exactly where in Eagrose to look. Jocelyn could at least get the idea of why Ashley lured him to the previous locations, but Eagrose didn't have a shred of the same suffocating feeling those places had. No, the Dark had no presence in the cities full of living people.

However…Jocelyn couldn't help but have something in the back of his head ever since he got here. It didn't know what it was, but it wasn't that thick, oppressing tension the Dark would give him. This was unusually airy and light, like a transparent mist during the early morning.

The two of them went through the streets together; they would have asked others for help but they didn't have a clue what they were looking for so there was no point. Hours passed as they looked amongst the streets, at the cathedrals, at the markets and nothing odd stood out.

They took a break on a bridge above the river, Jocelyn observing the slowly moving water while Vic munched at an apple she picked up at the market.

"You think Riot led us on a wild goose chase?"

"I don't see why he would do it now. I do wonder if he left out any clues on purpose."

"Trust me when I say this is one of the oldest places in Ivalice; there are castles here that have lasted longer than entire cities."

"Wait, oldest?" that word had made the gears in Jocelyn's head start to turn. He scratched his temples methodically.

"Oaks?"

"What are the oldest places here?"

"The western district, specifically the older manors. If memory serves me right a LOT of the oldest ones are unoccupied due to people not wanting them and the government not having the funds to destroy them."

Jocelyn crossed his arms and leaned against the railing of the bridge; Vic wondered what he was contemplating. It looked as though he had finally pieced together something that should have been blatant.

"Every place we met was old, ancient even." Jocelyn's eyes met Vic's "The Gallows, the Yuguewood, the Monastery, the fort, they were all around even before the Lion War. Ashley knew there was something special about those locations."

"Well, the Durai Papers mentioned them."

"And there's only one place in Eagrose like that."

It seemed that they had finally gotten what Ashley had been telling them without saying a single word. They took off into the western part of Eagrose, though they didn't notice that a silver-haired woman had been watching them the entire time.

The dusky-skinned woman looked as the two ran down the street as though their lives depended on it.

"Wot do yew think o' them?" asked a thickly accented voice next to her.

"The woman is far too green to worry about, but the Riskbreaker is another story."

"Aye, Ah cen see why Adrian an' David were shredded lahk paper."

"You're not getting anxious are you, Grieme?"

Arya glanced at the monster of a man next to her that had a wide-bladed claymore on his back. Grieme was huge, his entire body being made out of thick, cabled muscle that looked like it was going to rip the thick, furred coat he wore if he flexed even the slightest. Strangely he wore a pair of dark-lensed spectacles which concealed his eyes, adding to his intimidating appearance along with his thick, black beard and completely shaven head.

"Ah'm joost wonderin' where in the 'ell they're goin'." Grieme adjusted his spectacles "There's no' been hide nor 'air o' Riot since Banquo wen' runnin' wi' 'is tails between 'is legs."

"Yes, but currently those VKP agents are our only lead to finding him. I'm perplexed as to why Riot is constantly playing with the two of them."

"Sooch things airen't our concern, we joost hafta worry aboot findin' 'im."

"I suppose you're right, but we shouldn't be careless, especially around a Riskbreaker."

"Ach, nathin we can't deal wi'. Joost make shore no' to let 'im catch ya oof gard."

Jocelyn and Vic were soon out of the central city, going towards the older, more run-down part of the city. The place was full of old manors that had long been abandoned and as such gave off an air of the old decadence of Ivalice centuries before. The streets were so empty that you could probably hear the market on a day where there was a decent breeze to carry the sound.

"Oaks, honestly, the place can't be standing after all this time." Vic was perhaps trying to convince herself that they were on a wild goose chase.

"It _shouldn't_ be standing, but the same could be said of the Gallows and the Monastery. Those were rotten and still they stood."

"Coincidence then."

"Emer." Jocelyn stopped in his tracks to look at her "Nothing, _nothing_, about this is coincidence anymore."

"People have looked for it ever since the Durai Papers and still they haven't found it."

Jocelyn didn't quite hear Vic's last words, looking straight ahead in a daze. At the far, far, _far_ end of the narrow street they were in Jocelyn could clearly see a set of gates that were standing like rusted spears. Before he knew what happened his legs starting moving on their own with Vic trying desperately to keep up with his fast, long gait.

In no time at all Jocelyn was at the ancient gates and practically yanked them off their hinges. He burst into the old manor with such reckless abandon he nearly tripped over a hole in the floorboards. It was then that he realized how hard he had run to get in the place, beads of sweat running down his face and his breathing being fast and short. Vic stumbled in, looking about ready to vomit as she wasn't one to go chasing after someone like Jocelyn.

"So, no coincidences, eh?" Vic responded after taking a minute to catch her breath.

"Yes, none at all."

Even by the standards of a lot of the homes in Eagrose this place was absolutely ancient. It was decadent and grand, an old relic of the days when nobles tried to measure their worth in pretentiousness instead of merit. Like Jocelyn had thought, the old place was still standing despite all manner of logic that it shouldn't have been.

Vic wiped the sweat off her brow and stood by Jocelyn.

"Well, now what do we look-"

Vic didn't get to the end of her sentence, as Jocelyn raised his hand to silence her. His eyes were closed and he was listening intently for something. Vic didn't know what he was trying to hear, but to her ears the entire place was dead silent.

Her eyes were different story as she, unlike Jocelyn, could see a gray person sitting at the top of the stairs in the entrance hall. It was impossible to what his complexion was, but he was quite young, slim, and dressed in mail. His eyes met Vic's and then slowly moved towards her hip. She knew what he was looking at as she saw the exact same thing at his own waist.

"Oaks." Vic whispered and tapped him on the shoulder.

"What now, Emer?"

"There's a man sitting at the top of the steps; he is armed with the sword you gave me."

"I don't see anything, but I'll take your word for it. What else do you see?"

"He's standing and heading for the door in the back."

Vic led Jocelyn by the hand as they walked through the ancient manor. She didn't quite understand what she was seeing, but it was a clue. They continued through the huge place as they followed their spectral guide. Eventually they came do what was once an old dining hall. They finally stopped as the specter they had been following was now standing in front of a fireplace that had an enormous portrait hanging above it. By his side as well was a woman clad in armor with a long sword at her hip and her long hair braided.

"Well, what's going on n-"

For a second Vic thought Jocelyn could see the pair in front of her but instead his attention was at the portrait above the fireplace. He walked slowly to it, his eyes wide in shock. The painting was of a family, four men and a girl. Three of the men had stern, grim faces but the fourth one…the fourth one was the man they had been following.

Jocelyn turned to Vic, unaware that the man and woman were intently looking at him.

"Emer, is that man in here?"

Vic nodded.

"And…is there a woman with braided hair and a sword at his side?"

Vic was astounded, but nodded in response. Perhaps knowing the presence that was next to him Jocelyn glanced at the woman, even if he couldn't see her. Without saying another word he made for the doorway and continued down the hall. Vic followed, hearing him grumble something under his breath.

"Oaks, what is it? How did you know about that woman? Who was that man?"

"Quiet, dammit."

The two of them stopped at the entrance hall. Jocelyn, wound tight about something, leaned against the dust-covered railing and hung his head. Without turning around he answered Vic.

"That man was Richard Oaks, though far younger than the one I'm used to seeing."

"Sir Rich-" Vic stared at Jocelyn's back "Oaks, we're in the Beoulve manor, that man had to be Ramza."

"And yet it was my ancestor, so we have a little problem."

"And the woman; who was she?"

"Lady Agrippina of course; but Durai said there was a woman at Ramza's side who was with him longer than anyone: Agrias."

Vic had known the answer before Jocelyn had said it, but she had to hear it nonetheless. The two of them stood there in silence for a bit, trying to keep from talking as neither really knew how to address this. The silence dragged on until it became unbearable and Vic had to say something if just to have noise.

"Oaks, what now? Riot seems to have forgotten to leave a clue to continue his little hunt."

"Well then, Emer." Jocelyn turned around and crossed his arms "What can you tell me about Riot the Riskbreaker?"

"The only thing I can really say is that he went missing after investigating Lea Monde."

"Ah, that fairy tale. The place was said to be haunted with demons and the damned. We've been in quite a few places fitting that description, but Ramza's tale ended in a place that might as well have been Ivalice's own Lea Monde."

Vic wasn't sure if Jocelyn had gone mad or if he had hit the nail right on the head. Although being correct in this was still the same as being insane.

"Oaks, that place is under the waves, that is beyond absurd."

"Your point being?"

Vic sighed as she knew reason was no longer a part of their world. They walked outside only to find a silver-haired woman and a huge man waiting for them.

"Well, loo' wha' we 'ave 'ere."

"You took all the time sneaking around only to show yourselves openly?" it was hard to tell whether Vic or the other pair was more surprised.

"Well, I don't really understand why you're here and Riot isn't, but I would hope he left you two a clue." The woman readied her musket like some sort of spear.

"Unfortunately he became sloppy. Luckily it seems all those nights I spent reading to Catherine produced something unexpected."

"Oaks…"Vic had drawn her sword, though her hands were unsteady.

"Don't bother trying to fight people reeking of blood like these two; the last thing I need is to have to bury you here."

Vic backed away though she still had her sword drawn. Grieme wielded the huge claymore he had deftly, making Jocelyn's long sword look like a tooth pick. He kept the pair of them in his sights, though he wasn't sure who would make the first move. The woman wasn't even aiming her gun and the man's size and weapon wouldn't allow him to clear the distance in time before Jocelyn fired off one of those holy techniques he had woken to.

However, it seemed Arya had him completely fooled. Despite having her musket at her hip she fired the thing anyway and would have had its bullet hit Jocelyn in the eye if he hadn't jerked his head out of the way.

Taking this chance Grieme charged forward lik the bull he was and swung his sword down with all his might. His target, however, managed to pivot on his foot and feel the wind rush as the massive blade skimmed dangerously close to him. He was given no chance to respond despite Grieme's sword being embedded in the cobblestones.

Arya had started moving the second Grieme missed and drew the short sword at her belt. Her musket's bayonet missed its mark as well as her sword, Jocelyn spinning and parrying blows in quick succession. Even then he couldn't stop evading as Grieme made a huge swing that could have cleaved several trees. Like a harlequin Arya nimbly hopped over the swing and went back to fighting Jocelyn. Again she continued with her musket and sword, though Jocelyn frustratingly kept dodging.

Vic couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. It was like some sort of deadly acrobatic routine, though everyone had the intent to harm. It continued with no one getting a shot in and Jocelyn getting closer to fatigue with every swing and miss. Vic, no longer being able to restrain herself decided what she could do to give Jocelyn an opening: she threw her sword.

Arya went to deflect the thing but due to thinking it was a regular sword, her eyes widened like saucers when she saw her sword's blade fly off. Jocelyn, seeing her back turned, took his chance and followed up with a strike. Arya managed to get her musket in front of Jocelyn's blade, but its barrel and frame were shattered before his blade. Not letting himself lose any momentum, Jocelyn turned on his heel just as Grieme was following through with his own swing. The sound that followed was akin to an iron bar hitting a rock, cracking over the silence so loudly someone could have mistaken it for thunder.

Grieme gazed down Jocelyn's blade, astounded that his claymore had been smashed by this man's blade. Arya had already backed away, cursing at her shattered gun.

"Can you fly, Grieme?"

"Well enoof. This bahstarrd seems to have been boorn from the womb o' Lady Loock 'erself."

In a flash the two of them vanished, leaving Jocelyn and Vic in front of the manor. Jocelyn shook his head as Vic retrieved her sword from the ground.

"To Mullonde then?"

XXXXX

"Do you think 'e found it?"

"Well, he hasn't disappointed me thus far."

Ashley and Ezekiel were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, Ashley crouching at a stone circled and carving something into it with a dagger.

"Do you think this is wise?"

"Perhaps not, but it is necessary." Ashley tossed aside the dagger he had been using and placed his hand on the ground, mumbling something.

The ground glowed with an eldritch light, ancient glyphs showing brightly. He looked to Ezekiel and the girl.

"This should hold up for quite a while."

"The Blades will use it."

"Yes, yes, but again, necessary. Jocelyn must do this, just the same as you or me."

The three of them vanished into the portal, leaving no trace except for a dagger lying in the grass.


	9. Tale 8

Tale 8: Truth

Macbeth was quite amazed at how fast they managed to pick up Riot's trail. The coastline bordering Mullonde had always been a place that was rank with the odor of the Dark, but it seemed even more intense now that Riot had been fiddling around in the city. The very air seemed to crackle with an eldritch energy that had been bottled up for far too long. The ocean was a rather sickly red cast in the light of the fading sun, almost like it was preemptively preparing for a slaughter.

Macbeth scanned his men, seeing that they were apprehensive about the glowing white glyph on the ground in front of them. He honestly couldn't blame them, especially since they had lost a quarter of their forces since coming to this forsaken country called Ivalice.

"Maria," Macbeth called her over "where are Arya and Grieme?"

"No idea; hopefully they managed to survive even if they lost to that Riskbreaker."

"And yet I'm called a coward for fleeing when my sword was smashed."

Banquo was sitting on the cliff edge that was a sheer drop to the ocean. Ever since he failed to deal with Riot as Ziekden he had become a lot less jovial and his sarcastic attitude had a tone of bitterness to it. For the past few days he had just been managing his weapons and grumbling to himself.

"Arya and Grieme at least have never come back to me with several dead men." Macbeth's patience was at its limit.

"Yes, how very appropriate it would have been for me to die as well. You religious types are always quick to see people die as long as they say it's for the glory of a make-believe man in the clouds."

Macbeth had already drawn his rapier and had it tickling the side of Banquo's throat. In response Banquo had a pistol aimed at Macbeth's heart. They were stock-still for nearly a minute when Maria made Macbeth lower his sword.

"Enough, the last thing we need is for the Dark to use his rotten corpse."

"I thought you'd love the opportunity to kill me twice."

"Under normal circumstances, but your sword and gun are far more important than your satisfying death." Maria barely managed to get that sentence out from between her teeth.

"Alright then, but don't expect me to go in with the same fervor that you fanatics are. I'm here for Oaks, plain and simple."

"Do what you will, but you had better have the decency to at least maim him if you get yourself killed."

Despite the tension being no less severe the group continued through the portal one by one as fast as they could. The last, of course, was Banquo who sneered at the thought of going so willingly into a treacherous would-be coffin like Mullonde. The Blades could at least serve as a shield for him to survive, at least until he dealt with Oaks.

Stepping through the glyph Banquo's eyes were met with the horrific and awesome site of Mullonde. Buildings and towers that had stood for thousands of years reached upward like a forest of stone and metal. He had little time to admire the eerie yet beautiful site as the scores of undead in front of the Blades had now taken notice of them.

Within seconds the streets were a battlefield, rounds firing out of guns and weapons smashing through bone and rusted armor. The blades had no trouble with reducing the chalk-white remains into dust, letting not their fear take hold of them. However, the city didn't seem to have any shortage of remains to animate. As soon as one was down two more would spring up to replace it.

Macbeth was like some sort of white golem on the battlefield, picking up an old mace and shield off the ground and smashing through the hordes. He was precise and graceful, a man dancing a dance of death. However, the rusted mace eventually gave way and he was forced to pummel the offending hordes with his shield which also soon broke.

Banquo was comfortable with staying in the back. He wasn't like these zealots who risked their lives for an old man hundreds of leagues away; no, better to let them charge to their oblivion while he survived.

Drawing his sword, Banquo edged back from the fighting and disappeared down one of the ancient alleyways. He was a bit surprised that no one managed to see him or that one of the place's many denizens wasn't after him. He didn't let his mind dwell on the thought for long and ran as fast he could, heading ever deeper into Mullonde.

XXXXX

Ashley relaxed inside the centerpiece of the town, a church that was probably older than his homeland by a long stretch. He was disappointed that the Blades had arrived before Oaks, but there wasn't much he could about it at this point. This city hated those from the outside, especially those that entered by force.

Ashley sat up from his prone position and looked up at the mural painted on the damaged ceiling. It was a rather pretentious thing, showing elaborate battles and a sight of a glorious god. He thought that someone he knew would find it disgusting, though Ashley himself didn't so much as label as anything.

"Is this it then?"

Ezekiel looked nervous, fiddling with the hem of his jacket as he looked downward at the city. Ashley couldn't blame him with the Blades coming into town. As much as it angered him, Ashley had to admit that he wasn't the only "shepherd" in the world.

"Oaks will come, he has to."

"Is this what you've been waiting for? For two hundred years you've been waiting for someone like him?"

"No, for two hundred years I was just a vagrant who came and went as he pleased. Meeting Oaks though has shown me what I must do, what we must do."

"Still caught up in Lea Monde then?" Ezekiel's comment made Ashley smirk.

"When you carry a weight that heavy you bear it until entire mountains are flattened."

Ashley turned his head to the city nonchalantly, though he was most certainly looking at something specific; the guest of honor, so to speak.

XXXXX

Jocelyn shook his head as he came out of the strange glyph into the dark, dank city of Mullonde. Vic's legs nearly came out from under her as she entered, hit by the thick feeling of the Dark that the city was practically made out of. Jocelyn on the other hand could feel some kind of hatred Mullonde itself had for him.

"Can you go on, Emer?"

"I think so; I just got caught off guard for a bit." Jocelyn reached his hand out for her.

"We can't waste any more time, not with Macbeth's men so close to Ashley."

Jocelyn had been in quite the hurry as he didn't notice the fresh corpses of some of the Blades beginning to rise. Their scuttling alerted Jocelyn to them who drew his sword as he turned. Despite one of the walking corpses lacking a head and the other an arm they charged at Jocelyn and Vic. Jocelyn wasn't slow to act though, sidestepping the headless one and then carving him in two. The one-armed one was brought down by Vic who made him completely armless before removing his head. The two of them hurried along quickly, knowing they had been out of time for far too long.

"To think Mullonde could be accessed like this." Vic prattled on, the scholar in her being impossible to keep out "The history, the conflicts that happened here, it's all so incredible."

"Emer, we have no time for some sort of endeavor into this place. Ashley is in here and we need to find him."

"It's definitely a pity. Any intellect would give his entire career to study a place like this. Well, maybe not with the walking dead and demons."

"Astute, Emer."

The signs of battle were apparent as they ran through the ancient alleys and streets. Practically everywhere there were corpses or smashed weapons, quite a few being at best only a few hours old. The place really did earn its name as now the Blades were helping to store its larders. Perhaps they should have been thankful for it as the obstacles they would have faced otherwise had been greatly lessened. However, lessened did not mean gone as a gunshot that missed Jocelyn's foot by a fraction of the inch had caused both him and Vic to stop in their tracks. Jocelyn didn't even need to guess who it was.

"Still stinging, Banquo?" Jocelyn's eyes darted around for any sign of his aggressor.

"Anyone would be stinging after learning what about what you have. You damned nobles get all the breaks."

"Are you going to just keep firing insults instead of bullets?"

"Oaks, we can't linger."

"Keep going, I'll handle this petty weasel."

Vic didn't even waste giving Jocelyn a curt nod, darting down the street while he drew his sword. Banquo stepped out from his hiding spot almost immediately as though he had been waiting for Vic to leave him and Jocelyn alone. His glare was trying to burn holes into Jocelyn and he gripped his saber so tight that one could hear the groan of his leather gloves. They just glared at each other, Banquo fiery and Jocelyn cold. There were no words needed, not with something like this.

After what seemed like an eternity the two of them charged each other at the same time. Their blows met perfectly, swords smashing against one another. They locked hilts for a bit with their blades grinding against each other so intensely that the friction might have been causing heat.

After the lock they stepped away from each other and circled around each other like a pair of lions. It didn't last long though as Banquo readied his saber and went for a sweep from below. It was no use though with Jocelyn deflecting it and then giving Banquo a kick to his side. Banquo scrambled rather inelegantly to avoid the retaliatory slash Jocelyn gave and backed away as quickly as he could to give himself some distance.

Jocelyn didn't pursue him, nor did he ready one of his techniques. He just stood there, looking at Banquo whose eyes were burning with a searing hate. He was boiling over with anger, anger at the one who had something any warrior would kill for. He went for the kill, saber held in both hands as he bolted straight for Jocelyn.

The next thing either of them knew was that the left side of Jocelyn's face was red with blood. Banquo's throat was spraying everywhere haphazardly, staining the ground and his shirt with blood. His throat slashed, he couldn't so much as make a coherent word as he stumbled toward Jocelyn.

"Ghrk! Slssk!"

Banquo's knees gave out as he reached for the hem of Jocelyn's jacket. His blood soaked the ground scarlet, Jocelyn gazing with no discernable expression on his face. He merely wiped the blood off his face and got moving, not giving Banquo's corpse a second glance.

XXXXX

Vic was running with all the strength that could go to her legs. She was sure that Oaks was still alive and because of that she had to keep running. She knew the Blades were advancing like madman toward Ashley, not even hesitating to step over the corpses of their fallen comrades. She was quick to find the alleys that would veer her away from the fighting as she didn't want to get caught between the Blades and the city's terrifying denizens.

She was getting closer than she wanted to now, actually being able to hear gunshots from the fighting. God, why the hell why she here? Even in the VKP people still had the common sense to run when things were starting to get too out of control and she went in headfirst. Perhaps she too was drawn by the drive to find out the truth of this whole matter.

Slithering through a narrow alley, Vic came to the imposing, extravagant doors of the city cathedral. It was a massive thing, towering over every other building and showing off what could only be described as pretentious might. Vic stepped up to the doors and opened them, their hinges moving for the first time in an age.

The only sound made in the wide open hall was Vic's boots walking on the marble floor. If she were more of a religious folk she would have thought of the place as holy, though the scholar in her at least made her think of it as impressive. Still though, once pristine statues and pillars were mere shadows of their former selves.

Vic made her way up the nearby stairs to the next floor. Oddly there was nothing in the cathedral; no beasts of legend, no phantoms, no walking constructs, nothing. Did Ashley keep them away? She passed through the second floor with naught but her footsteps accompanying her. The walk through the third and fourth floors was the same, literally seeing nothing and no one.

The silence in the place was eerie, even for a place as dead as Mullonde. It wasn't until she reached the fifth floor that she could hear someone talking. She slowed her pace with her hand on her sword as she took the stretch step by step. She slinked as quietly as she could when moving toward a heavy oak door that was cracked open.

"You're seriously staying?" that was obviously Ezekiel's voice.

"Considering that everything would go up in smoke if I didn't, I think it's quite obvious."

"Him? Isn't that a bit strange considering that he should be the Dark's enemy?"

"The Dark and the Light will always exist alongside one another, even if they rarely touch."

"Bugger all, this is a mess." Vic could hear Ezekiel walking in the room "I should have known that you'd do this eventually."

Vic swore she could hear Ashley chuckle, if barely. She heard footsteps come towards her and readied her blade. The door swung inward to reveal Ezekiel and Ashley who were none too surprised at Vic's presence. She knew it was pointless to make a swing when she was at a disadvantage so she sighed and removed her hand from her side.

"Well, your attitude has changed." Ashley was obviously amused.

"At this point I doubt arresting you would make any difference. Besides, you owe Oaks answers."

"Oh if only I actually held them."

"Prattling on again, you old corpse?"

Ashley glanced at the ceiling and sighed. Vic leaned against the wall with her arms crossed and didn't avert her gaze from him.

"These old places have been around for too long, rotting and only around so solitary tyrants can try and enforce their false strength."

"The Cardinal, eh?" Vic wasn't one for poetics.

"Aye, the old coot can't keep his hold through actual preaching so instead he tries to wield the power he so condemns publicly. I can't say I'm surprised, having seen it over two centuries ago, though I would think the Church would have realized it probably doesn't work after that long."

"And Oaks, what about him?"

"A heretic, just like you!"

The only person who managed to react in time was Ezekiel, bowling over Vic as several shots rang out. Ashley took one in his arm but seem to barely feel it and Sidney, having been curled up into a ball until this point, rushed over to Vic and Ezekiel who were on the ground.

Ashley yanked the slug from his arm unceremoniously and looked at Macbeth and the few men he had left. His hair was somehow free of blood, but his clothes were almost to the point where he truly would fit as a Crimson Blade. Ashley stepped over slowly, getting between Macbeth and Vic.

"Blades? More like bloodhounds. Are you the church's latest pet?"

"Where is the key, Riot?" Macbeth pointed his rapier at Ashley, almost tickling his nose.

"Spare your prattle, boy; I've heard enough from the church to last me infinite lives."

"You _will_ tell me what the key to this city is."

Ashley backed up from Macbeth, making sure not to leave his eyes off him.

"Ezekiel, what's your damage?"

"He's hit in the abdomen! It's bad!" Vic was almost hysterical

Ashley, still looking at Macbeth began muttering something under his breath. To Vic it was a bunch of rubbish, but Macbeth's pale eyes lit up with worry and he made his move. He drew his rapier and gave a thrust that would have killed a man without Ashley's unique condition. Ashley didn't try to dodge; in fact he grabbed Macbeth's hand to keep him from moving while he finished what he was muttering.

With a burst of light Vic, Sidney, and Ezekiel vanished. Ashley was finally able to divert his full attention to Macbeth, though because he was impaled left him a bit disadvantaged. In a rare display, Macbeth inelegantly kicked Ashley off his blade and then stumbled backward, nearly falling. Blood spilling from the wound, Ashley was brought to one knee as he breathed heavily. The floor was soon red and Macbeth's anger was at its peak. The tip of his sword tickled Ashley's nose precariously.

"If you will not tell me what the key to this city is then I will fly it from your flesh."

Macbeth was given no answer other than a faint smirk on Ashley's lips. Macbeth's fury descended and was it ever harsh.

XXXXX

Jocelyn knew he had wasted far too much dealing with Banquo. By the time he had arrived at the cathedral his legs were shaking and his face was drenched. Grim as it might sound, he felt a bit glad that the Blades thinned out the numbers of the residents a bit. He slowed, catching his breath as he continued up the grand old building to the highest floor.

Before Jocelyn finished his ascent up the stairs he already knew there had been fighting. The pungent odor of blood hit his nose as he arrived. The floor of the room was completely red, forming a huge puddle and then a trail that went up a spiral staircase at the side of the room. Jocelyn knew that the end of this would be up there.

Coming into the dark attic at the top of the stairs, Jocelyn saw Ashley sitting with his back to the wall. There was blood all over him and the area next to him. In fact, the trail of blood ended at him. He merely stared at Jocelyn and he kneeled next to him.

"You're late, Oaks." Ashley's voice was hoarse.

"Where's Emer?"

"Worry not, she will be out of the city by the time this is over."

"Why in the hell did you do all this? Why go to all this trouble of bringing me here?"

_I owed them_

Jocelyn heard a faint voice not ten feet from him. To his side he could see a grayed out Ashley. It crossed its arms and looked at Jocelyn.

"So, she rubbed off on you." Ashley almost chuckled as his twin moved on.

_I owed it to them. Merlose, Sydney, Hardin, I owed it to them to end the old world, to bring the age of the Dark to a close._

"And if I could not, at the very least I could keep it out of the hands of the foolish." Ashley reached for Jocelyn, grabbing tightly onto his shoulder "Stop Macbeth; those who crave can never control."

Jocelyn needed no more words said, opting to go outward onto the top of the cathedral. There he could already see a white-haired man with his torso unclothed cradling a blond woman in his arms. Blood trickled from her mouth and a stiletto was embedded firmly in her chest.

"Forgive me, my love, but I need your soul."

Macbeth set her down onto the parapets gently. As his back was turned Jocelyn could see what appeared flesh skinned off a human on Macbeth's back. He clearly saw an ancient, elaborate rood, a symbol known to many as the Blood-sin. Macbeth finally turned his attention to Jocelyn, perhaps knowing what this man was without having met him.

Macbeth then convulsed spontaneously, a great display of light shooting out of him like an aurora. His pure white skin became charred in an instant and his eyes glazed over into a most disgusting hue. What gazed at Jocelyn now was no longer the commander of the Crimson Blades, but a mindless monster.

"CoME, RisBREAkkeerrrrrrrr…"

Jocelyn didn't plan on giving Macbeth any edge. He brought his blade down, summoning a bolt of lightning from out of nowhere. Macbeth, despite his body having changed, reacted instantly to it, leaping like an animal to the side. His mouth was wide open like an animal, teeth bared and tongue flapping around sloppily.

Despite his sword being drawn Macbeth didn't seem inclined to use it or fight like an elegant man. Instead he leaped in a bestial manner, narrowly dodging Jocelyn's barrages. On all fours he crawled and flung himself at his opponent. Jocelyn swung his sword, but much to his surprise Macbeth made an impossible dodge in midair and landed behind Jocelyn. To Macbeth's surprise though, he didn't hear the hammer of Jocelyn's pistol being cocked back.

The slug landed right in Macbeth's forehead with a sickening crunch. The impact snapped his head back, but he still didn't fall despite leaning back to far he nearly touched the ground. He whipped forward, black, viscous liquid pouring from the wound in his head. From his mouth came the same fluid, making the stone black.

"GRaahagaknjahassashdyh!!!!"

Light burst once again from Macbeth, so bright that Jocelyn shielded his eyes from it. By the time his lids opened once more he was no longer on the cathedral roof, instead being in a pure white landscape. In the distance he could see a grayed doppelganger of himself.

_Forget that which pains you_ it said _That which is lost cannot be reclaimed, let go of your regret_

The doppelganger vanished, but the voice still continued.

_Does it truly matter if their lives were taken by your hands or another's? No matter what even God cannot bring back the dead_

At his side Jocelyn saw Macbeth, not the beast he had become, but the graceful knight he had been. The voice emanated from him.

_Your hands are stained red. False or true, your sins are eternal._

At his feet Jocelyn saw the body of Catherine, her beautiful white skin tarnished by red. Oh how he wished never to see that image again.

_Forget the past, walk towards the future! Come home, Jocelyn, join us_ the voice came from nowhere and everywhere once again.

Over his shoulder Jocelyn could see his imitator once more. He closed his eyes thoughtfully and looked once again at his doppelganger before advancing toward it.

_A foothold in the past is needed for the future, lest we be forever aimless_ Jocelyn stopped in front of the shade, voicing his answer aloud.

"Begone, Darkness!"

Jocelyn was no longer in that white void. He was home, surrounded by the flowers of the courtyard. At the fountain in the middle of the garden he saw Catherine and Elizabeth reading. He approached them slowly, but his light footsteps were enough to get Catherine's attention. Her face lit up like the midday sun and she rose quickly.

"Brother!"

Despite her frailty she ran over to Jocelyn and leapt into his arms. He embraced her in turn, though not squeezing the life out of her like she was doing to him. They spun joyously for a moment as Elizabeth smiled at the two of them. Setting her down finally, Jocelyn placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Catherine, you must have been lonely." She merely shook her head as Jocelyn saw their elder sister coming toward him "…Elizabeth."

"Welcome home, Jocelyn."

He heard footsteps behind him and saw his brothers, both without their elaborate coats. They grinned gleefully.

"I must say, I don't think I will ever meet a man who gives his brothers more grief, right, Edgar?"

"Indeed!"

"But I…this…" Jocelyn was stopped by Arthur rapping him on the head with his knuckles.

"You're not a child, little brother. I think you can tell what's the truth and what isn't."

Edgar ruffled Jocelyn's hair, getting his bangs in his face. He looked to the four of them, Arthur, Edgar, Elizabeth, and Catherine who all smiled. Catherine, smiling even wider, looked up at him with those beautiful amber eyes of hers. It had been so long since he had looked into those eyes. What she said next was like the greatest song in the world to him.

"Brother, we love you."

And then they vanished, breaking into beautiful, golden lights taken by the wind. He gazed on until they were gone from his sight. He felt relieved somehow, liberated. Once again, he heard that faint voice.

_Come home, Agent Oaks, your tale is not yet over…_

Jocelyn was snapped out of the vision he had. However, in those few minutes the world around him had drastically changed; a brilliant if unnatural light surrounded him, every color known and perhaps unknown for view. Beneath his feet was a strange, spinning glyph far above the cathedral.

From below he heard a bellow that no creature could produce. With stunning speed the creature once known as Othello Macbeth ascended. He no longer even resembled anything human, his limbs being elongated with serrated contusions coming from them, his jaw being unhinged to the point that his chin ended around his chest, and what appeared to be bony, grotesque mockeries of wings extending from his back. Yes, this horror was now what had bastardized Macbeth's shell.

Like his forebears Jocelyn raised his long sword at the abomination before him. He was no longer hesitant at these creatures, no longer apprehensive. No, this thing before him was just an empty shell that had once been a man. He would dare not fear this thing.

With a roar Jocelyn leapt at the thing, swinging his blade. The creature took the air, flying far above him and then raining down black orbs of darkness at him. Jocelyn scrambled for his life, dodging blast after blast from the thing. The monster, perhaps becoming infuriated with Jocelyn's persistence, slammed down onto the glyph with titanic force, making Jocelyn lose his footing for a split second.

This time it was the creature's turn to charge, flinging himself at Jocelyn with his clawed hands outstretched. Despite going for the neck all he was greeted with was Jocelyn's sword. While a normal blade would have done nothing, this one sliced through the monster's hand like just another beast. Screeching horribly the creature backed away, its wounds sizzling at though Jocelyn's sword had been a red-hot brand. The one who should have been frightened now was this beast which quickly took to the air once more.

Jocelyn waited, knowing that this thing was panicked like a desperate animal. It fire blast after blast at him but kept missing, knowing that it had no more of an advantage than he did. It flew maniacally with no real strategy, hoping that Jocelyn would be gone by luck. After the smoke cleared Jocelyn was still there, at best his coat being singed.

The creature, frustrated at how a mere man could mock it, flew headlong at him. Waiting for it was Jocelyn and the sword of god. As though the heavens themselves rained down, a glorious beam of light struck the creature, tearing it apart in a flash. The creature unceremoniously hit the glyph and skid along it, little more than its torso and head being left. When its landing ended, its remains burst into flames…shortly followed by a rumbling that encompassed all of Mulllonde.

XXXXX

With all speed Ezekiel, who was carrying Sidney, and Vic ran, the very city itself starting to crumble. Despite the urgency Vic had to turn back and yell at the top of her lungs.

"Jocelyn!!!!"

"We've no time! This place is comin' down on our 'eads!"

"But Agent Oaks!"

"We can't turn back!"

Vic gave one last look behind her before running for her life. Mullonde continued to fall, buildings millennia old collapsing in great chunks that decimated the ground. They ran, they ran harder than anyone could hope to. By the time they got to the entrance the city was nearly gone, little more than dust and rock.

Met with the starlit night Vic had to turn to the sea, needing to know what happened next. A huge crashing noise resounded across the air, causing the waves to nearly reach over the cliffs. The entire sea shook wildly and a great beam of light split the clouds apart. Within the space to barely breathe all that had passed, the sea slowly becoming calm in spite of its chaos. Vic could only hang her head solemnly.

"Godspeed, Oaks."

Vic felt someone tugging on her hand, seeing Sidney yanking her earnestly. The little girl ran over to Ezekiel, his face looking upward at the sky. Despite his life fading he grinned. Sidney, tears running down her face, pleaded to him.

"Don't die, Nigel! Please, you can't die!"

"You…speak." Ezekiel gently stroked Sidney's head "Everything you witnessed…I am sorry."

Smiling, Ezekiel breathed his last. Sidney ran to Vic and buried her face in her clothes. Stroking the girl's red locks, Vic noticed two very familiar people coming up on horses.

"Woot in blazes!?!" Grieme was obviously surprised "We get 'ere late?"

"Aye." Vic's respond was little more than a whisper.

"For the love o'…" Grieme leapt off his horse and stomped over to Vic "Woot aboot Macbeth? That bastard Banquo? Yer pal?"

"The Blades are gone, buried in the city. And Oaks…"

Arya stepped off her steed and walked over to the fallen Ezekiel. She clasped her hands gracefully.

"Don' pray for 'im."

"Those who have ones who may cry for them should not be belittled, no matter what they were."

Arya stood and glanced at Vic and Sidney. She crossed her arms.

"Riot?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Your partner?"

"The same."

Arya needed to hear no more and signaled to leave. Grieme hesitated for a moment, but he knew there was nothing more to fight. There was no more point to this mess.

They vanished over the horizon quietly and Vic stood there comforting Sidney beneath the beautiful, starlit sky.


	10. Tale Infinity

Tale ∞: The Tale of the Wanderer

Out in the Graylands was the Duke's secondary residence, a far humbler estate than the manor in Valnain. It was raining lightly outside in the late hours of the night. Amidst low candlelight inside one of the Duke's servants was escorting someone to his quarters.

"He's here, milord."

"Leave us."

The servant left the long-haired man curtly by himself as he opened the door. On a grand bed in the room was a thin old man in silken robes. He was regal despite his age, his hair and goatee being finely combed. His eyes scanned the dark-haired Riskbreaker in front and gestured for him to stand next to him.

"So, it seems you have finished your work in Ivalice, Ashley."

The man no longer had the guise of Jocelyn Oaks, instead reverting to his true face. Ashley gripped his left shoulder with his right hand.

"The wellspring is cut off; not even I can touch it at this point."

"And this Jocelyn, I trust we can leave the rest to him."

"Well, Sydney chose me the same way."

The Duke sighed and looked to the dark sky outside his window. He didn't quite know how to feel. For the decades he had known this man he still couldn't fathom the magnitude of what he was doing.

"I wonder if my family will cross your path once more. It seems we shall never truly be rid of the Dark."

"That's my charge, old friend."

Like the wind Ashley was gone without a trace. A shadow of a smile could be seen on the Duke's old friend, even when he collapsed and his servant rushed in screaming bloody murder.

In the mostly empty streets outside the manor stood someone in a long, black jacket observing the window of the Duke's bedroom. An officer in a raincoat noticed the odd figure, immediately thinking that they were up to something.

"Who's oop at this 'our? State yer busness!"

Turning on their heel the figure revealed themselves to be a woman who promptly flashed an ID in a leather case.

"Victoria Emer of the VKP." The wax seal on the paper caused the officer to stiffen up.

"M-my apologies, Marm!"

"None needed, strangers at night should be questioned."

The officer, relieved that he wasn't being reprimanded on the spot, quickly left the Inquisitor, though the second he turned the corner the woman he had met turned into a tall man with long, ebon hair. Jocelyn glanced one last time at the manor and walked down the road away from it, seeing Ashley sitting on a bench.

"I see you're learning quickly."

"Considering that I have to now I damn well better be."

"Well then, we shouldn't keep Emer waiting."

The two men vanished into the night, never again seen by any who once knew them.

_And so continued the tale of the Vagrant,_

_The Wanderer_

XXXXX

Author's Notes: Today marks ten years since Vagrant Story and Ashley Riot first came into being. Of all the games I've played Vagrant Story is one of the very few that shows that the medium is still worth defending. Even after a decade of me revisiting it year after year it still hits me as hard and deep as it did when I first played it. I'm sure _Tale of the Wander_ doesn't even begin to do Matsuno justice, but it's the least I can do to show how great he was and still is.


End file.
